•    j 

.• 


DORIS  AND  THEODORA 


BY 


MARGARET    VANDEGRIFT 


No  life 

Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose,  and  strong  in  its  strife 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  (hereby. 
The  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  on  high, 
The  Army  of  Martyrs  who  stand  round  the  Throne, 
And  look  into  the  Face  that  makes  glorious  their  own, 
Knoiv  this  surely  at  last.    Honest  love,  honest  sorrow, 
Honest  work  for  to-day,  honest  hope  for  to-morrow, 
Are  these  worth  nothing  more  than  the  hands  they  make  weary, 
The  hearts  they  have  saddened,  the  lives  they  leave  dreary  ? 
Hush  !    The  Sevenfold  Heaven  to  the  voice  of  the  Spirit 
Echoes,  "He  that  o'ercomet/t  shall  all  things  inherit.'''1 

ROBERT  BULWER-LYTTON. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
PORTER    &    COATES. 


COPYRIGHT,  1884,  BY  PORTER  &  COATEE, 


M697001 


INTRODUCTION. 


A  MONGr  the  notes  furnished  for  this  story  by  a  long-ago 
*£\-  resident  of  Santa  Cruz,  were  some  which  drew  so 
graphic  a  picture  of  life  upon  the  Island  in  its  halcyon  days, 
that  the  temptation  to  give  them  to  the  possible  readers  of 
the  story  is  almost  irresistible,  especially  as  they  tell  of  a 
phase  of  life  which  has  vanished,  never  to  return  either 
there  or  elsewhere. 

"Your  map  will  show  you  a  number  of  islands  in  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  between  North  and  South  America — and  as 
these  islands  lie  in  the  Torrid  Zone,  of  course  the  climate  is 
very  hot,  but  the  delightful  breezes,  sometimes  from  the  sea, 
sometimes  over  the  land,  make  the  temperature  very  endur 
able — indeed  healthful.  There  is  never  any  frost  or  snow — 
most  of  the  houses  are  finished  without  glass  sashes,  the 
windows  are  shaded  by  wide  Venetian  blinds,  and  secured  by 
heavy,  strong  outside  wooden  shutters,  which  are  closed  and 
barred  when  the  fierce  winds  of  the  hurricane-season  are 
threatening.  This  season  is  from  July  25th  to  October 
25th.  These  days  are  marked  in  the  churches,  the  one  as 
a  day  of  intercession,  the  other  for  thanksgiving.  Do  not 
mistake  me  and  suppose  I  mean  the  windows  are  closed  for 
the  entire  three  months — the  closing  is  never  for  more  than 
twelve  hours,  and  then  only  on  two  sides  of  the  house 


6  IN  TR  OD  UC  TION. 

at  the  same  time.  The  gales  begin,  continue  and  end  in 
an  almost  undeviating  way,  so  that  experienced  observers 
know  when  and  where  and  how  to  begin  to  bar  the 
windows  with  strong  staves  and  rope.  The  rain  pours 
in  torrents,  and  lightning  and  thunder  are  sharp  and  loud. 

"  The  fruits  are  the  guava,  guava-berry,  orange,  shaddock, 
lime,  pine-apple,  sugar-apple,  sour-sop,  granadilla,  bell-apple, 
&c.,  &c.,  &c.  The  guava,  growing  on  a  low  tree  like  the 
quince,  is  of  the  same  family,  and  the  fruit  is  a  little  like 
the  quince  in  some  peculiarities,  yet  quite  different  in  others. 
Every  part  of  the  fruit  is  used  in  preserving,  first  for  jelly, 
then  for  marmalade.  Pine-apples  grow  in  abundance,  and 
very  curious  do  they  appear,  growing  in  a  field.  The  sugar 
cane  is  remarkable  also,  not  only  for  the  sugar  made  from 
the  juice,  but  because  every  part  is  useful,  and  all  the  refuse 
useful  for  fuel. 

"  There  is  not  much  difference  in  the  length  of  the  days, 
as  the  island  is  not  many  degrees  from  the  equator.  The 
early  morning  is  the  pleasantest  time  for  exercise,  either 
walking  or  on  horse-back — then  the  evenings  are  cool,  and 
invite  to  riding  or  walking. 

"  Visiting  socially  is  universal,  for  there  are  no  theatres,  and 
public  entertainments  are  rare.  Evening  and  dinner-parties 
are  frequent,  the  young  people  are  fond  of  dancing,  and 
almost  always  indulge  in  it  either  to  the  music  of  the  piano, 
or  violin,  or  brass  instruments.  The  old  and  young  visit 
together  in  families,  parties  are  never  composed  (solely)  of 
the  younger  members  of  the  community,  and  consequently 
the  tone  of  society,  though  very  merry,  has  a  shade  of  refine 
ment  and  dignity  quite  agreeable. 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

"  The  dress,  as  in  all  warm  climates,  is  mostly  of  muslin  or 
chintz  for  daily  wear  at  home.  For  set  companies,  either 
gauzes,  or  lace,  or  muslin.  In  the  cool  season  it  is  quite 
usual  to  wear  thin  silk,  or  soft  woolen  material — this  some 
times,  not  always.  A  shawl  or  wrap  of  light  wool  is  always 
needed  for  evening  rides  or  walks. 

"  Now,  slavery  is  totally  abolished  in  this  little  island— in 
former  years,  all,  or  nearly  all  the  colored  population  were 
slaves,  and  there  were  many  more  servants  employed  in 
families  than  is  now  the  case,  so  you  may  suppose  their 
duties  were  not  very  arduous ;  for  instance,  there  would  be 
two  or  three  women  to  take  care  of  the  bed-rooms  and  sew, 
two  as  nurses  for  the  children,  one  man  to  cook,  he  had  an 
assistant ;  one  man  as  butler  (who)  also  had  an  assistant ; 
they  attended  to  all  parts  of  the  house  except  the  bed-rooms, 
taking  charge  of  the  table,  china,  glass,  silver,  &c. ;  one  man 
to  draw  water  for  the  whole  family  ;  they  depend  on  cisterns 
and  wells. 

"  The  houses  are  lighted  with  candles  or  oil;  when  lamps 
are  used,  they  are  small,  and  filled  with  sperm  oil.  The 
general  mode  of  lighting  is  by  candles  of  wax  or  sperm, 
in  heavily  silver-plated  candlesticks,  both  candle  and  stand 
enclosed  by  a  deep,  bell-shaped,  clear  glass  shade.  This  is 
to  prevent  the  flaring  of  the  flame  by  the  strong  sea-breeze, 
freely  admitted  through  the  open  windows.  In  drawing  and 
dining-rooms  it  is  customary  to  have  glass  globes  sus 
pended  by  chains  from  the  ceiling,  in  which  lighted  wax 
candles  are  placed.  The  chains  are  of  brass. 

"  There  are  not  any  street  lamps,  and  you  must  always  pro- 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

vide  yourself  with  a  light  and  lantern,  to  help  you  to  find 
your  way  home. 

"  When  the  sky  is  clear,  the  stars  give  very  great  light,  and 
when  the  moon  shines  you  need  nothing  more,  for  the  moon 
light  is  very  bright  between  the  Tropics. 

"  I  should  have  said  at  commencing  that  these  are  recollec 
tions  of  things  forty  years  past ;  I  do  not  know  what  may 
have  changed. 

"  The  young  people  of  whom  I  am  writing  loved  to  take 
early  morning  walks,  and  part  of  the  pleasure  was  to  make 
up  walking-parties,  not  forgetting  the  directions  of  our 
mothers  to  take  a  repast  of  dried  rusk  and  fruit  before  start 
ing,  or  take  it  in  a  basket  to  use  on  the  walk,  early  walking 
without  having  taken  some  food  being  injuriously  exhaust 
ing.  The  quiet  on  our  walk  was  charming ;  then  we  would 
stop  to  listen  to  the  indescribable  gentle  clicking  sound 
made  by  the  wind  moving  the  long,  stiff  blades  of  the  cocoa- 
nut  palm  against  one  another;  you  must  be  quiet  to  hear  it, 
and  enjoy  the  peculiar  beauty.  There  were  some  birds  to 
make  pleasant  music,  but  not  many,  for  I  believe  singing- 
birds  do  not  abound  in  these  latitudes.  The  hedges  would 
be  brilliant  with  the  rich  red  and  yellow  blossoms  of  the 
Barbadoes  thorn,  always  in  bloom  ;  then  we  could  see  also 
hedges  of  aloes  and  dates,  very  sure  hindrances  to  the 
invasions  of  cattle,  so  also  the  prickly-pear  cactus,  and  these 
also  in  floAver  or  with  fruit,  the  pear  shape  giving  the  name 
to  this  species  of  cactus.  Unlike  our  pears,  however,  the 
outside  rind  is  studded  with  small,  very,  very  small  prickles 
in  groups  or  spots  ;  be  careful  in  gathering  the  fruit  to  avoid 
the  prickles,  cut  open  a  pear,  there  is  a  rich  liquid  and  small 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

seeds,  both  of  a  most  perfect  crimson  color,  and  of  a  sweet 
ness  very  like  the  fig.  The  liquid  is  used  in  coloring  s}7rups 
or  spirits,  and  in  dyeing  eggs  at  Easter  for  the  children. 

"  Perhaps  we  walk  on  and  reach  some  planter's  garden,  and 
there  see  the  fruit-trees  in  blossom  or  with  fruit,  breathe  the 
sweet  perfume,  receive  some  of  the  fruit  and  flowers  from 
the  polite  master,  who  is  usually  riding  about  his  grounds 
at  that  hour  inspecting,  and  then  we  desire  to  return  home, 
or  the  sun  will  be  too  hot  for  comfort. 

"  On  reaching  home  we  make  our  toilet  for  an  eight-o'clock 
breakfast,  and  find,  perhaps,  some  one  or  two  friends  have 
come  to  join  us  at  that  meal." 

"  On  each  plantation  a  large  part  is  given  to  the  slaves  for 
their  residence ;  this  is  divided  into  streets  and  cross-streets, 
on  which  their  cottages  are  built.  Each  cottage  has  an 
apportionment  of  land,  and  this  the  owner  of  the  cottage 
cultivates  according  to  his  best  judgment,  and  it  is  astonish 
ing  to  know  how  thrifty  and  industrious  some  of  these  people 
are.  A  large  tree,  always  a  fruit-tree,  is  growing  near  the 
door ;  this  affords  shade,  and  the  fruit  is  profitable,  as  it  is 
taken  to  town  for  sale.  On  their  piece  of  land  is  always  a 
small  kitchen,  to  save  them  from  building  fire  indoors.  The 
remainder  of  the  land  is  planted  in  vegetables,  which  are  also 
taken  to  town  for  sale.  All  this  industry  they  make  the 
best  use  of,  furnishing  additional  clothing  to  that  provided 
by  their  masters,  and  making  a  pleasant  variety  in  their 
food,  and  many  of  them  were  able  to  lay  by  money  enough 
to  purchase  the  freedom  of,  first  themselves  (that  is,  the 
parents),  then  one  child  after  another.  Many  were  content 
to  continue  slaves,  satisfied  with  their  accommodations  (two 


10  IN  TR  OD  UC  TION. 

cottages,  where  the  family  had  several  children),  rations 
every  week  of  Indian  meal,  wheat  or  rye  flour,  yams, 
potatoes,  pumpkins,  and  salt  fish  or  meat,  some  change 
each  week,  two  or  three  strong,  comfortable,  full  suits, 
besides  an  extra  gift  at  Christmas  of  something  more  and 
better. 

"  Time  was  allowed  them  to  take  their  own  produce  to  town 
for  sale,  and  also  to  make  their  own  purchases,  and  peddling 
women  visited  the  plantations  with  their  baskets  and  bun 
dles  of  small,  useful  articles  for  men,  women,  and  children. 
The  slaves  were  an  industrious,  sensible  people.     With  a  few 
exceptions — as  you  will  find  everywhere — they  were  generally 
clean  and  neat  in  person  and  homes.     Many  of  them  were 
ambitious  to  know  how  to  read,  and  often  were  successful. 
The  natives,  white  and  black,  were  industrious  and  econom 
ical.    I  can  tell  you  of  one  white  woman,  a  widow,  who  kept 
a  small  shop  for  dry-goods  and  trimmings,  arid  in  fact  every 
article  you  could  need  in  common  house  use,  sewing,  and 
stationery.     Besides  supporting  herself  and  two  children,  she 
laid  by,  year  after  year,  while  the  children  were  small,  all  the 
money  she  could  spare,  until  she  found  herself  in  funds  suffi 
cient  to  send,  first,  the  daughter  to  the  United  States,  and 
kept  her  for  four  years  at  good  schools,  and  when  she  re 
turned  to  her  mother  she  was  able  to  take  a  situation  in  a 
school  as  teacher,  and  afterwards  to  begin  a  school  in  her 
own   name.     She  taught   music  also,  and  entirely  relieved 
her  mother  of  any  expense  for  her.     The  boy  was  some  years 
her  junior,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  twelve  he  was  sent  to  a 
school  in  the  Northwestern  States,  where  he  was  educated. 
He  entered  on  a  mercantile  service,  where  he  gradually  ad- 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

yanced,   and    became  a  large  land-owner    in    the  North 
west. 

"Many  women  acquire  a  small  fortune  by  making  guava 
jelly  and  other  preserves,  which  are  always  in  demand  by 
visitors  to  the  island.  Some  make  cakes  and  desserts  for 
families  and  pleasure  parties." 

"On    the    north    side    (of    the    island)    a    high,    bluff 
coast   meets  the  eye;    then,   coming   round  to  the  west, 
the  beautiful  estates,  lying  more  level,  seem  like  extensive 
gardens  as  you  sail   past   one,  then   another,  and  then,  as 
you    are   nearing    the    little   town   of    Frederickstadt,    the 
sandy   beach,   which  first  is  discernible  as  you  leave  the 
north  side,  gradually  widens  and  continues  along  the  west, 
where  the  town  lies.     The    beach   is  separated  from   the 
first  street,  called  Strand  Street,  by  a  regular  row  of  the 
tall  cocoa-nut  palms,  always  in  fruit ;  these  continue  nearly 
to  the  southern  point  of  land.    The  approach  is  peculiarly 
tropical,  and  gives   an  impression  of  more  beauty  than  is 
found  in  going  through  the  town,  and  yet  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  this— the  immense  tamarind  trees,  the  large,  shady 
Thibet  trees,  and  many  fruit-trees,  growing  indiscriminately 
about,  so  different  from  any  of  those  to  which  a  northern 
resident  has  been   accustomed,  waken   a  strange,  pleasant 
feeling  of  novelty.     An  early  morning  walk  after  a  storm 
which  has  caused  a  heavy  swell  in  the  waves,  rolling  in 
quantities  of  shells,  will  give  occupation  enough  if  you  want 
shells.     If  you  prefer  horseback-riding,  no  time  is  so  inviting 
as  that  first  hour  beginning  with  sunrise.     The  young  ladies 
like  it,  when  they  are  stopping  in  the  country  with  rela 
tives,  to   go  out    on    safe,   easy-pacing  horses  without  an 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

attendant,  and  travel  for  an  hour  along  the  charming,  well- 
kept  roads,  or  ride  into  any  neighboring  plantation  where 
they  wish  to  leave  a  note  or  message,  or  perhaps  stop  to 
breakfast;  but  then  they  must  not  grumble  at  the  later  ride 
home  in  a  fierce  heat— the  fine,  strong  breeze  makes  the 
heat  more  endurable. 

"  Very  many  agreeable  evenings  are  passed  in  rowing  in  the 
harbor,  or  on  board  a  large  war-vessel,  where  you  have  been 
invited  by  the  officers  who  desire  to  make  a  return  attention 
for  hospitalities  they  have  received  from  the  islanders,  but 
none  of  these  are  without  the  elder  relatives. 

"  Now  we  will  take  the  usual  early  morning  ride  along  the 
north  side,  along  the  narrow,  pebbly  strip  below  the  rocky 
bluff,  and,  the  morning  being  calm,  the  sea  gently  washes  in 
over  the  pebbles,  bathing  the  horses'  feet. 

"  I  wish  I  could  describe  the  beauty  of  that  deep,  clear,  blue 
sea,  so  calm,  one  could  never  imagine  its  fury  agitated  by 
high  winds.  We  ride  along  the  bluff  of  plantation  Cale 
donia,  and  presently  turn  into  a  road  which  takes  us  along 
the  cane-fields,  now  in  full  flower,  like  the  beautiful  prairie- 
grass  we  get  in  the  States,  except  that  the  color  is  a  pink  lilac. 
Then  we  go  on,  and  pass  through  the  fruit  and  flower  plant 
ings,  and  reach  our  visiting-home  in  good  time  to  refresh  and 
dress  for  breakfast.  Perhaps  we  visit  neighbors  between 
that  and  dinner-time;  or,  should  company  be  expected  to 
dinner  (at  six),  we  rest  quietly,  with  working,  reading,  and 
music. 

"  One  evening  a  number  of  friends,  thirty  or  so,  may  be 
expected.  The  grounds  are  made  into  fairy-gardens  with 
colored  lamps  and  lanterns,  and,  the  evening  being  dry  and 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

cool,  the  guests  pass  as  much  of  the  time  in  sauntering 
through  the  grounds  as  they  pass  indoors.  Part  of  the 
entertainment  is  dancing,  and,  on  this  particular  evening, 
playing  on  the  guitar  and  singing,  in  true  troubadour  fash 
ion,  by  one  of  two  young  relatives — young  men  who  had  been 
for  years  in  France  and  Denmark,  and  had  returned  to  make 
a  short  stay  with  their  relatives. 

"  Now  comes  a  change — death  comes  in,  families  are  sep 
arated,  households  broken  up — but,  before  this,  a  great  work 
is  to  be  done ;  the  question  of  emancipation  is  being  seri 
ously  discussed." 

"It  was  decided  that  all  the  children  born  at  a  certain 
time,  and  after,  should  be  free  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and 
that  all  other  slaves  should  be  emancipated  after  a  term  of 
years.  The  arrangement  was  acceptable  to  owners  and 
slaves,  and  was  progressing  most  satisfactorily,  when  some 
evil  people  from  the  neighboring  English  islands  came  to 
Santa  Cruz,  and  gradually  sowed  the  seeds  of  discontent, 
advising  the  people  that  they  were  wronged  by  this  slow 
course  of  emancipation,  that  they  should  demand  immediate 
freedom.  In  a  short  time  the  slaves  were  in  rebellion.  The 
Government  had  made  some  preparations  of  defence,  invit 
ing  aid  from  other  places,  and  war-ships,  United  States, 
English,  French,  and  Spanish,  bringing  soldiers,  were  on  hand 
to  stop  the  wholesale  destruction.  As  it  was,  many  estates 
were  much  injured  by  fire,  but  the  lawlessness  was  checked. 
Then  freedom  to  all  was  proclaimed.  The  Government  was 
to  remunerate  the  owners,  paying  a  price  for  every  slave, 
which  promise  was  fulfilled.  The  now  freed  negroes  were 
limited  by  law  to  ask  but  the  price  settled  by  law  for  a  given 


14  INTR  OD  UC  TION. 

number  of  hours  of  labor  each  day.  Their  entire  expenses 
now  devolved  on  themselves ;  their  former  masters  were  no 
longer  responsible  for  dwellings,  food,  clothing,  care  in  sick 
ness,  by  nurses,  doctors,  or  for  medicine.  The  negroes  at 
first,  in  their  wild  delight,  refused  to  work,  until  they  began 
to  understand  that  no  work  meant  no  pay.  The  planters 
suffered  in  actual  losses  during  the  rioting,  and  afterwards 
from  the  insufficient  and  inefficient  laborers.  Since  then 
many  once  nourishing  sugar-plantations  have  not  yielded  a 
full  return.  Some  others  are  in  full  operation,  but  the 
island  has  deteriorated  agriculturally  and  socially;  nearly 
all  the  most  important  people  have  left  it." 


DORIS  AND  THEODORA. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IT  was  early  morning  in  Santa  Cruz,  and  at  that  hour  of 
the  day,  most  lovely  of  all  hours  in  the  tropics,  sea  and 
shore  sparkled  with  life  and  beauty.  Between  the  sandy 
beach  and  the  first  street  of  a  small  town  waved  stately 
cocoa-palms,  their  feathery  fronds  standing  out  clear  and 
separate  against  the  matchless  blue  of  the  sky.  The  sun 
was  half-way  above  the  horizon,  and  there  was  a  sense  of 
freshness  and  life  indescribable  in  words — a  pulsing  of  light 
and  color,  a  thrill  of  beauty,  filling  all  the  sunny  air. 

Laughing  and  chattering  negroes  lounged  upon  the  beach, 
or  went,  without  undue  haste,  to  and  fro  upon  errands,  or 
business  of  their  own.  Little  parties  of  merry  girls  on 
horseback  met  and  passed  each  other,  stopping  to  exchange 
gay  good-mornings,  and  invitations,  and  plans  for  rides  and 
drives,  before  they  parted. 

But  far  up  the  beach,  keeping,  with  evident  purpose, 
apart  from  all  the  rest,  a  girl  about  fifteen  years  old, 
mounted  on  a  sturdy  white  pony,  rode  slowly  along,  with 
drooping  head  and  downcast  eyes.  The  reins  hung  loosely 
on  the  pony's  neck,  but  he  and  Doris  Campbell  were  thor 
oughly  good  friends,  and  he  would  have  scorned  to  take 
advantage  of  slackened  rein  and  absent  mind.  He  knew  his 
business,  however,  and  stopped  resolutely  when  he  reached  a 


16  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

certain  place  in  the  beach,  at  which  his  little  mistress  always 
paused  before  turning  his  head  homeward.  This  roused  her 
from  her  abstraction,  and  she  turned,  as  she  usually  did 
here,  for  a  long  gaze  out  to  sea.  But  no  light  came  into  her 
face  as  her  eyes  traveled  over  the  shining,  dimpling  water. 
Her  brow  darkened  more  and  more,  and  presently  large, 
slow  tears,  like  the  first  threatening  drops  of  a  thunder- 
shower,  fell  from  her  eyes  on  the  pony's  white  mane. 

"  I  can't,  I  can't,"  she  said,  with  a  little  sob,  unconsciously 
speaking  aloud.  "  I've  tried,  for  mamma's  sake — I've  put  it 
in  my  prayers,  but  I  can  not  love  her  !  Oh,  why  did  God 
let  her  come  ?  "We  were  all  so  happy,  before  she  came.  And 
papa  will  not  call  me  *  daughter '  any  more  ;  it  must  be 
'  Doris '  now,  all  the  time,  as  if  he  were  angry  with  me,  for 
that  dreadful  little  ugly  baby  is  his  daughter,  too !  And  it 
will  always  be  the  same ;  whenever  I  want  mamma  to  go 
anywhere  with  me,  or  do  anything  for  me,  it  will  always  be, 
'I  can't  leave  baby,  dear,'  just  as  it  was  this  morning,  and 
very  soon  they  will  love  her  just  as  much  as  they  love  me.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  they  even  came  to  love  her  more,  for  I 
can  see  that  they  don't  care  so  much  about  me  as  they  did 
before  she  came,  already.  And  when  Leonard  comes  home, 
he  will  pet  her,  and  play  with  her,  and  give  her  half  the  time 
and  love  he  has  been  giving  to  me ! " 

The  pony  interrupted  her  with  an  impatient  little  snort 
and  shake ;  he  knew  very  well  how  hot  the  sun  would  be, 
presently,  and  beside,  he  was  beginning  to  want  his  break 
fast,  and  the  two  lumps  of  white  sugar  which  never  failed  to 
come  after  it.  Doris  sprang  from  the  saddle,  and  clasped 
him  around  the  neck,  laying  her  wet,  flushed  cheek  against 
his  silvery  mane. 

"You,  at  least,  are  all  my  very  own,  Dirck,"  she  said. 
"  You  will  always  love  me  best,  best  of  all  !  Poor  little 
Dirck !  Are  you  so  very  hungry  for  your  breakfast,  and  do 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  17 

you  want  to  go  home  before  the  heat  catches  you  ?  Come, 
then ;  I'll  not  feel  any  better,  if  I  stay  here  a  month,  so  we 
may  as  well  go." 

She  drew  a  lump  of  sugar  from  the  pocket  of  her  riding- 
habit,  and  held  it  a  little  way  off,  until  the  pony  whinnied 
gently,  and  touched  her  cheek  with  his  soft  pink  nose. 
Then  she  gave  him  the  coveted  morsel,  and  springing  easily 
and  lightly  into  the  saddle,  turned  his  head  toward  home, 
shaking  the  reins,  and  saying: 

"Faster,  Dirck,  faster !" 

He  gave  a  joyful  little  snort,  and  broke  at  once  into  a 
canter,  and  as  he  flew  along  the  hard,  level  sand,  his  rider's 
face  cleared,  in  spite  of  herself — the  air  was  so  sweet,  the 
light  so  fair,  the  sea  so  blue.  The  face  which  she  lifted, 
with  a  glad,  free  motion,  toward  the  deep  arch  of  the  sky, 
did  not  look  as  if  her  heart  could  be  the  home  of  dark  and 
envious  thoughts.  A  broad,  high  forehead,  large,  very 
dark-brown  eyes,  delicately  but  strongly  marked  black  eye 
brows,  long  black  eyelashes,  a  resolute  mouth,  rather  large 
for  the  other  features,  but  not  unbeautiful,  because  of  firm 
red  lips,  and  even  white  teeth,  and  a  nose  which  seemed  to 
have  come  near  being  straight,  but  to  have  suddenly  changed 
its  mind  and  turned  up  a  little,  made  a  face  very  pleasing 
to  look  at,  especially  just  now,  when  eyes  were  shining  and 
cheeks  glowing  with  health  and  exercise,  and  the  nut-brown 
hair  was  blown  back  in  a  confusion  of  waves  and  little  curls. 
It  was  not  only  in  the  fond  eyes  of  mother  and  father  that 
Doris  was  comely,  but  to  their  eyes,  because  of  that  very 
fondness,  there  was  something  visible  which  was  beginning 
to  mar  the  comeliness.  For  six  years  Doris  had  been  their 
only  child  on  earth.  A  baby  brother  and  sister  had  died, 
one  when  she  was  three  years  old,  the  other  when  she  was 
between  eight  and  nine,  and  the  mourning  hearts  of  her 
parents  had  clung  more  and  more  closely  to  their  one  re- 


18  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

maiuing  child.  They  had  tried,  earnestly  and  conscien 
tiously,  not  to  spoil  her,  and  in  great  measure  succeeded,  for 
she  was  warm-hearted  and  loving,  strictly  truthful  and 
honorable,  and  generally  obedient  to  their  wishes.  But  she 
had  a  quick,  imperious  temper,  a  strong  will,  and  a  need 
lessly  high  opinion  of  her  own  judgment  and  ability.  Until 
the  birth  of  the  "dreadful  little  ugly  baby,"  two  months 
ago,  she  had  been  the  chief  treasure  and  special  care  of 
parents  and  servants  alike,  and  no  one  had  dreamed  of  the 
sleeping  demon  of  jealousy  in  her  heart,  until  it  began  to 
manifest  itself.  Leonard  Campbell,  an  orphan  cousin  two 
or  three  years  older  than  herself,  had  been  brought  up  with 
her,  for  the  last  ten  years,  almost  as  a  brother;  for  two  years 
past,  he  had  been  away  at  school  in  the  United  States,  but 
the  long  vacation  was  always  to  be  spent  at  his  uncle's  home, 
and  to  this  they  both  looked  joyfully  forward.  The  thought 
of  his  return  now,  however,  only  added  to  poor  Doris's  self- 
inflicted  misery.  Leonard  was  a  hearty,  fun-loving  boy,  but 
he  was  tender-hearted  and  chivalrous,  and  Doris  knew  that 
the  baby-cousin  would  at  once  find  a  place  in  his  heart.  She 
had  been  ashamed  even  to  hint,  in  her  letters  to  him,  the 
state  of  her  own  feelings,  and  he  had  spoken  with  lively 
interest  of  the  baby,  asking  to  be  told  how  it  looked, 
whether  it  knew  one  person  from  another  yet,  and  if  it  were 
afraid  of  strangers. 

"  What  fun  it  will  be,  Doris,  dear,"  he  wrote,  "  when  she 
begins  to  toddle  and  tumble  about,  and  try  to  say  everything 
she  hears!  I  shall  have  to  mind  how  I  bring  any  slang 
home  with  me,  a  year  or  so  from  now !  I  wish  it  might  not 
be  wrong  to  let  her  think  that  I  am  her  '  really  and  truly 
brother/  as  you  used  indignantly  to  call  me,  when  any  one 
dared  to  insinuate  that  1  was  only  your  cousin!  And  no 
wonder,  dear,  for  you  have  been  the  sweetest  and  best  of 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  19 

little  sisters  to  me,  just  as  aunt  and  uncle  have  been,  in 
everything  but  name,  the  best  of  fathers  and  mothers." 

But  these  loving  words  only  brought  an  added  bitterness; 
must  Leonard,  too,  divide  his  love  for  her  with  this  intrusive 
little  stranger? 

She  reined  in  the  pony,  as  she  neared  the  entrance  to  an 
avenue  of  stately  palms,  and  once  more  the  shadow  passed 
over  her  face ;  when  she  stopped  before  the  wide  veranda, 
and  gave  the  reins  to  the  smiling  black  boy  who  waited  to 
take  them,  she  said  briefly  and  gravely : 

"Rub  him  down  well,  Cudjoe— he's  been  going  fast." 

"  Missy  not  feel  well  to-day  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  gently,  and 
with  a  wistful  look  at  her  cloudy  face. 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  Cudjoe,"  she  answered  kindly, 
"but  I'm  a  little  tired." 

She  ran  to  her  room  to  change  her  riding-habit  for  a  soft 
white  cambric,  and  came  to  the  breakfast-table  with  a  toler 
ably  cheerful  face.  Her  mother  and  father  had  already 
seated  themselves,  but  her  father  rose  to  place  her  in  her 
chair,  with  the  courtesy  which  is  too  often  omitted  in 
families,  and  as  he  bent  to  kiss  her  cheek,  with  a  loving 
"  Good-morning,  little  daughter,  have  you  had  a  pleasant 
ride?"  only  a  very  jealous  eye  could  have  discovered  any 
want  in  his  greeting. 

"It  was  beautiful  by  the  sea,  papa,"  said  Doris,  evading 
the  question,  "and  Dirck  is  so  funny — he  knows  just  where 
I  always  turn  to  look  out  to  sea,  beyond  the  point,  you 
know,  where  one  can  see  farthest,  and  if  I  don't  stop  him 
there,  he  stops  of  his  own  accord,  now,  and  if  he  thinks  I 
stay  too  long,  he  turns  of  his  own  accord,  too,  and  stamps, 
and  gives  a  little  snort !  I  know  he  wants  to  talk,  and  he 
almost  does!" 

"Dirck  is  a  very  wonderful  pony,"  said  Mr.  Campbell, 
laughing;  "he  would  make  fame  and  fortune  as  a  trick- 


20  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

pony.  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  negotiate  with  a  circus 
in  the  States,  dear,  and  let  him  go  where  his  talents  will 
command  a  larger  audience  ?" 

"Now,  papa  !  I  will  not  'rise,'  as  Leonard  says,  to  that ! 
I  know  you  are  only  in  fun.  As  if  anything  in  the  wide 
world  would  tempt  me  to  part  with  Dirck  ! " 

"  A  note  came  for  you  while  you  were  gone,  darling,"  her 
mother  said,  as  Doris  paused.  "  It  was  inclosed  in  one  for 
me.  Mrs.  Santon  very  kindly  asks  us  to  spend  this  evening 
and  the  night  with  her ;  her  brother  is  making  her  a  very 
short  visit,  and  she  always  promised  us,  you  know,  that  we 
should  hear  him  play  and  sing,  if  she  could  arrange  it.  I 
am  afraid  I  cannot  leave  baby ;  she  does  not  seem  well  to 
day,  but  I  have  persuaded  papa  that  for  once  he  can  go 
without  me,  if  you  wish  to  go,  for  I  hate  to  have  you  lose 
the  pleasure." 

Doris's  face  had  flushed  with  delight,  as  her  mother  began 
speaking,  but  the  color  died  away  at  the  words  "  I  am 
afraid  I  cannot  leave  baby,"  and  she  replied  impetuously,  as 
her  mother  paused : 

"You  wanted  to  hear  him  much  more  than  I  did, 
mamma  !  Are  you  going  to  give  up  everything  for  that — 
for  baby?" 

"  Do  not  speak  in  that  tone  to  your  mother,  Doris,"  said 
Mr.  Campbell,  not  unkindly,  but  very  gravely. 

Doris  struggled  with  herself  for  a  moment.  Angry  tears 
filled  her  eyes,  but  she  conquered,  and  said  presently,  in  a 
low,  constrained  voice  : 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  mamma ;  I  did  not  mean  to  be  dis 
respectful." 

"I  know  you  did  not,  darling,"  her  mother  answered 
gently.  "It  is  a  disappointment,  and  if  baby  were  only 
well,  I  should  not  hesitate  to  leave  her  with  Nana  *  for  the 

*  The  name  commonly  given  to  a  child's-nurse. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  21 

evening,  and  we  could  drive  back  by  moonlight,  but  she  was 
very  restless  all  night,  and  seems  feverish  this  morning,  and 
I  have  just  sent  Gabriel  for  Dr.  Svensen." 

Doris  noticed,  then,  that  her  mother's  face  was  pale,  with 
dark  shadows  under  the  eyes,  and  her  heart  smote  her. 

"  Dear  mamma ! "  and  she  rose  to  fling  her  arms  about  her 
mother's  neck,  "  how  selfish  I  am— I  never  saw  how  tired 
•you  look  till  this  minute.  I  don't  care  to  go  without  you, 
and  I  know  papa  would  rather  not.  Let  us  write  an  excuse, 
and  perhaps  Mr.  Santon  can  play  and  sing  some  other 
evening  before  he  goes." 

"  No,  darling,  his  sister  says  it  is  the  only  evening  he  can 
give  her,  and  I  really  wish  you  to  hear  him.  I  think  it  would 
be  of  use  to  you,  in  your  own  music  lessons;  so,  if  Dr.  Svensen 
says  baby  is  not  in  any  danger,  you  and  papa  will  be  good 
children  and  please  me  by  going,  and  then  I  shall  hear  all 
about  the  music,  if  I  cannot  actually  hear  the  music  itself." 

Doris  wavered  ;  it  would  be  very  delightful  to  go  in  this 
way,  her  father's  sole  charge,  and  quite  as  if  she  were  a 
grown-up  young  lady,  and  "  out,"  and  if  her  mother  really 
wished  it. 

"  Well,  mamma,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  if  you  would  really 
and  truly  like  us  to  go,  and  papa  is  willing ' 

"  Papa  will  set  an  example  of  obedience  to  the  highest 
authority,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  including  wife  and  daughter 
in  the  same  hug,  "  and  if  baby  is  warranted  by  the  doctor, 
we  will  go,  my  Doris,  and  have  a  romantic  drive  home  by 
moonlight." 

They  had  noticed  with  deep  pain  the  change  in  Doris  since 
the  birth  of  her  little  sister,  but  they  shrank  from  speaking 
to  her  about  it,  hoping  from  day  to  day  that  the  helpless 
baby  would  win  its  own  way  to  her  heart,  and  trying  in 
everything  to  show  her  how  entirely  unchanged  was  her  own 


22  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

place  in  their  hearts,  and  they  welcomed  this  opportunity  to 
give  her  a  fresh  pleasure. 

Mrs.  Campbell  knew  that  there  would,  in  all  probability, 
be  a  large  number  of  people  at  Mrs.  Santon's  that  evening, 
and  Doris  had  not  yet  "  come  out,"  but  this  was  an  excep 
tional  occasion,  and  she  had  full  confidence  that  her  daughter 
would  take  no  advantage  of  the  indulgence,  in  the  way  of 
making  it  a  plea  for  future  exceptions.  Doris  was  still  a 
child  in  heart  and  mind,  although  her  height  began  to  warn 
her  parents  that  she  would  not  be  a  child  much  longer. 

Dr.  Svensen  was  at  home,  and  came  promptly  to  see  the 
baby.  He  was  a  large,  kindly-faced  old  man,  "  fat,  fair,"  and 
a  good  deal  more  than  forty.  He  had  been  the  family  physi 
cian  since  Mrs.  Campbell  herself  was  a  little  girl,  and  took  a 
warm  interest  in  the  welfare  of  all  beneath  the  roof.  He 
was  a  Dane,  and  although  it  was  many  years  since  he  had 
habitually  spoken  his  native  tongue,  he  was  still  at  war  with 
the  letter  r,  pronouncing  it,  when  he  remembered  in  time, 
with  a  sonorous  roll,  and  when  he  did  not,  as  if  it  had  been 
w.  He  was  a  wise  and  skillful  doctor,  whose  interest  in  his 
profession  had  never  abated;  he  still  read  and  studied  with 
all  the  ardor  and  freshness  of  youth,  and  this  fact,  combined 
with  his  kindliness  of  heart,  and  the  cheery,  pleasant  voice 
and  manner,  had  won  him  a  large  number  of  grateful  patient- 
friends.  Every  child  in  the  wide  circuit  which  his  practice 
included  considered  itself  his  special  friend,  and  many  a  time 
had  Doris,  mounted  proudly  in  front  of  him  on  the  old  gray 
horse  which  he  habitually  rode,  been  carried  off  for  a  ride  to 
some  neighboring  plantation.  He  was  a  widower,  with  one 
child — a  kind-hearted,  if  rather  prim  maiden  lady,  who  pre 
sided  over  his  house  and,  in  fact,  over  the  plantation,  too. 
She  was  his  able  and  willing  assistant  in  the  many  cases 
where  good  food  was  more  needed  than  medicine  was,  and 
babies  all  went  to  her,  when  she  held  out  her  arms  for  them, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  23 

with  unquestioning  confidence.  She  spoke  with  an  accent 
something  like  her  father's,  and  with  an  equally  pleasant 
yoice.  She,  too,  was  large  and  fair,  with  pale  yellow  hair, 
which  she  wore  twisted  up  into  the  tightest  possible  knot,  at 
the  back  of -her  head,  and  in  two  or  three  little  corkscrew 
curls  on  each  temple.  Doris  had  always  been  an  especial 
favorite  with  her,  and  scarcely  a  week  passed  in  which  Miss 
Christina  did  not  "borrow"  the  child  for  a  day,  or  at  least 
an  afternoon. 

Doctor  Svensen  spoke  cheerfully  and  hopefully  of  the  baby, 
saying  she  had  taken  a  slight  cold,  and  was  somewhat  fever 
ish,  but  that  he  did  not  feel  at  all  alarmed  for  her.  "And 
yet,"  he  added,  "  if  I  spoke  to  any  but  so  careful  and  tender 
a  mother,  I  should  say,  be  very  watchful  for  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours,  for  the  weather  is  warm,  and  this  little  one  has 
never  been  very  strong,  though,  with  God's  help,  we  shall 
make  her  so,  I  hope,  in  time." 

He  made  some  small  powders,  from  some  of  the  contents 
of  his  saddle-bags,  and  directed  Mrs.  Campbell  how  to  use 
the  medicine.  His  saddle-bags  contained  all  that  he  needed 
in  his  general  practice,  for  very  often  he  visited  at  places  so 
remote  from  any  town,  that  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  the  family  of  his  patient  to  have  his  prescriptions 
put  up. 

Doris  had  not  heard  his  last  remark.  When  he  had  said 
that  he  did  not  feel  at  all  alarmed  about  the  baby,  she  had 
immediately  danced  out  of  the  house,  to  give  old  Gray  a 
handful  of  grass  and  a  lump  of  sugar.  She  had  felt  restless 
and  uneasy,  before  the  doctor  came ;  what  if  baby  should  be 
very  ill — should  die  ?  Perhaps  God  would  punish  the  re 
bellion  of  her  heart,  Doris  thought,  by  recalling  the  littls 
life  to  Himself.  And  how  could  she  bear  then,  to  look  in 
the  sorrowing  faces  of  her  father  and  mother  ?  Already,  she 
knew,  they  loved  the  baby  fondly,  and  she  grudgingly  ad- 


24  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

mitted  to  herself  that  it  was  pretty  to  see  it  smile  and  stretch 
its  tiny  arms  out  when  it  saw  father  or  mother. 

Many  discussions  had  been  held  as  to  a  name.  The  parents 
were  anxious  to  please  Doris  in  this,  thinking  that  perhaps 
her  interest  and  affection  would  be  awakened ;  but,  beyond 
objecting  to  every  name  thus  far  suggested,  she  had  not  con 
cerned  herself,  apparently,  in  the  matter. 

She  ran  to  meet  her  father,  who  was  returning  from  his 
usual  morning  round  of  the  plantation,  and  putting  her  arm 
in  his,  said,  cheerfully  : 

"  It's  all  right  about  baby,  papa,  or  at  least  it  will  be — Dr. 
Svensen  says  she  has  only  taken  a  little  cold,  and  that  there 
is  no  cause  for  alarm." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  very  thankful,"  replied  Mr.  Campbell ; 
"  your  mother  had  a  restless,  anxious  night  with  her,  dear,  and 
it  is  only  because  I  know  that  we  can  give  her  most  pleasure 
in  that  way,  that  I  am  willing  to  go  this  evening;  I  hope 
I  may  live  to  see  my  little  Doris  as  utterly  free  from  self  as 
her  dear  mother  is." 

"I  am  afraid  you  never  will,  papa,"  said  Doris,  looking 
down.  "It  always  makes  me  feel  hopeless,  when  I  think 
how  good  mamma  is,  and  how  bad  I  am." 

"  It  need  not,  darling;  the  Strength  in  which  your  mother 
walks  may  be  yours,  whenever  you  will  claim  it.  She  could 
do  nothing  without  that." 

"  I  know,  papa — at  least,  I  know  what  I  am  told,  and  what 
I  read  in  the  Bible,  but  somehow  I  can't  seem  to  make  it 
real." 

They  were  standing  on  the  veranda,  by  this  time,  and 
just  then  the  doctor  came  out,  and  after  shaking  hands 
heartily  with  Mr.  Campbell,  untied  his  horse  and  mounted. 

"I  must  hasten,"  he  said  ;  "your  little  friend  Clara,  on 
the  next  plantation,  Doris,  has  a  fever  since  yesterday,  and 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  25 

they  wait  anxiously,  I  know,  for  me  to  come  again  to-day, 
as  I  promised." 

"  Is  Clara  ill  ?  "  asked  Doris,  anxiously.  "  Oh,  I  am  very 
sorry.  Will  you  give  her  my  love,  doctor,  and  tell  her  how 
sorry  I  am,-  and  ask  her  if  there  is  not  something  I  can  do 
for  her?" 

"  I  will,  my  dear,  and  when  I  come  to  see  the  little  sister 
again  to-morrow,  I  can  tell  you  what  your  little  friend  shall 
say.  Good-bye  for  to-day,  my  friends ! "  and  the  doctor  bowed, 
and  was  gone. 

"  Why  Agnes,  the  doctor  spoke  of  coming  again  to-morrow," 
said  Mr.  Campbell,  as  he  came  into  the  room  where  his  wife, 
seated  on  a  low  chair,  was  holding  the  fretful  baby.  "  I  am 
afraid  he  feels  more  uneasy  than  he  is  willing  to  tell  us." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Campbell, 
cheerfully;  "he  said,  positively,  that  there  was  no  cause  for 
alarm,  and  I  can  always  trust  him  to  speak  the  truth,  if  he 
speaks  at  all;  but  he  feels,  just  as  I  do,  that  baby  is  not  strong, 
and  must  be  closely  watched,  and  I  asked  him  to  come  again 
to-morrow,  for  my  own  satisfaction." 

"  Ah,  that  makes  it  better,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  much  re 
lieved,  "  and  you  really  must  let  Nana  help  you  more,  darling; 
you  will  be  ill  yourself,  if  you  take  no  rest  at  all.  Come, 
give  baby  to  me  for  a  while  ;  I  will  walk  with  her  till  she  is 
quiet,  and  then  Nana  can  hold  her;  you  hardly  slept  at  all 
last  night,  I  do  believe." 

He  took  the  baby  in  his  strong  arms,  and  began  to  walk 
the  floor,  and  Mrs.  Campbell,  seeing  how  quickly  the  change 
of  position  seemed  to  soothe  and  comfort  the  child,  went 
into  another  room  for  the  much  needed  rest,  with  a  parting 
injunction  to  the  nurse  to  call  her  at  once  if  baby  seemed 
worse. 

Meanwhile,  Doris,  with  a  few  books  swinging  in  a  satchel 
on  her  arm,  had  walked  down  the  palm  avenue,  and  along  a 
2 


26  ^    DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

shady  path,  to  where  a  little  school-house  nestled  among  the 
trees.  Here  a  young  governess,  who  lived  with  a  family  on  a 
neighboring  plantation,  daily  held  a  small  schoolfor  the  older 
daughters  of  three  or  four  of  the  planters.  She  was  a  bright, 
energetic  girl  of  twenty-two  or  three,  from  "the  States," 
and  her  pupils,  while  they  loved  her  dearly,  had  a  whole 
some  respect  for  her  as  well.  Miss  Anna  Robeston  was 
thorough  herself,  and  it  was  no  fault  of  hers  if  all  her  pupils 
were  not  thorough  also. 

The  school-house  was  a  one-storied,  octagonal  building, 
with  a  wide  veranda  all  around  it,  and  covered  with  a 
pointed  roof.  Banning  vines  clambered  over  it  in  all  direc 
tions,  waving  their  feathery  branches  from  every  corner  and 
from  the  top,  and  it  was  a  pretty  feature  of  the  charming 
landscape  in  which  it  stood.  The  other  girls  who  shared 
Miss  Robeston's  instructions,  and  who  all  lived  in  the 
immediate  neighborhood,  we^e  Grace  and  Sara  Lilienthal, 
Jane  and  Clara  Barrett,  Christine  Larsen,  and  Hilda  Tilling. 
Their  ages  ranged  from  twelve  to  sixteen ;  they  were  all 
pleasant,  refined  girls,  and  Doris  loved  each  one  ;  but  every 
school-girl  must  have  her  "  particular "  friend,  her  double, 
the  special  sharer  of  her  joys  and  griefs,  and  it  was  Hilda 
Ufling  who  occupied  that  place  with  Doris.  She  was  a  tall, 
fair,  tranquil-looking  girl,  with  a  crown  of  yellow  hair,  and 
soft,  blue  eyes,  a  most  striking  contrast  to  Doris  in  every 
way,  and  the  friendship  was  good  for  both  of  them,  for 
Hilda's  calm  and  temperate  way  of  regarding  everything 
had  its  effect  upon  Doris's  impetuous  nature,  and  Doris's 
enthusiasm  often  roused  Hilda  when  her  calmness  was  in 
danger  of  degenerating  into  indolence.  The  bell  had  not 
yet  rung,  and  Doris  immediately  communicated  to  Hilda 
her  engagement  for  the  evening. 

"  And  I  wish  you  were  going  too,  Hilda,"  she  said,  eagerly, 
"  for  you  love  music  so — far  butter  than  I  do — and  rnanima 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  27 

says  that  Mr.  Santon  is  the  best  amateur  performer  she  ever 
heard." 

"  I  am  going,"  said  Hilda,  smiling,  as  she  so  often  did, 
at  Doris's  impetuosity  ;  "  I  have  been  trying  to  tell  you  so 
for  the  last  five  minutes,  but  you  are  such  an  avalanche, 
Doris,  when  anything  interests  yon,  and  almost  everything 
does!" 

"And  you  are  a  glacier,  a  cold,  impassive,  unshakable 
glacier!"  said  Doris,  giving  Hilda's  arm  a  little  shake,  in 
anger  half  real,  half  pretended. 

"  Will  anything  ever  excite  you,  I  wonder,  you  snow- 
image,  you  ice-maiden  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Hilda,  "I  have  never  yet  been 
very  much  excited,  I  confess,  but  I  can  fancy  that,  perhaps, 
some  day— oh,  we  are  talking  nonsense,  Doris,  as  usual. 
Why  should  I  not  have  a  northern  nature,  when  all 
my  ancestors,  excepting  just  my  mother  and  father,  were 
loyal  Danes  ?  But  see,  Miss  Anna  is  coming,  looking  like 
a  nun  in  her  soft,  black  gown — 35011  will  be  obliged  to  finish 
shaking  me  after  school,  my  dear ! " 

School-hours  brought  no  drudgery,  unwillingly  per 
formed,  to  these  happy  girls ;  Miss  Anna's  hearty  interest  in 
their  studies  had  communicated  itself  to  each  one,  and  the 
recitations  were  given  with  a  keen  zest  on  the  part  of  both 
pupils  and  teacher.  All  were  encouraged  to  ask  questions 
and  give  opinions  freely,  to  investigate  every  doubtful  point 
in  history  or  geography  thoroughly ;  their  bright  young 
minds  were  on  the  lookout  for  anything  and  everything 
that  would  be  of  interest  to  their  teacher  and  schoolmates  ; 
sometimes  it  was  a  paragraph  read  or  recited  from  a  bock, 
sometimes  a  clipping  from  one  of  the  highly-prized  foreign 
newspapers  which  from  time  to  time  came  to  the  Island, 
sometimes  a  bit  of  evidence  from  dictionary,  gazetteer  or 
encyclopaedia.  At  that  time,  far  fewer  studies  were  under- 


%8  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

taken  than  are  now  required  in  the  public  schools,  and  there 
was  the  better  opportunity  for  thoroughness  in  those  which 
were  considered  essential.  The  rivalry  between  the  girls 
was  rather  a  generous  emulation,  for  each  was  ready  and 
willing  to  help  forward  any  or  all  of  the  rest.  A  week  ago, 
Miss  Robeston  had  asked  each  girl  to  bring  a  short  essay 
upon  her  favorite  historical  character,  and  to-day  the  writing 
and  arithmetic  hours  were  to  be  used  for  the  reading  and 
commenting  upon  these  essays,  and  the  characters  chosen. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  a  request  like  this,  made  in  a 
public  or  private  school  at  the  present  time,  would  be  con 
sidered  a  "dreadful  bore,"  "an  imposition,"  and  several 
other  things  the  reverse  of  pleasant,  but  in  Miss  Anna's 
school  it  was  entered  into  with  eager  interest,  and  the  bright 
young  faces,  as  the  girls  sat  around  the  table,  waiting  for 
their  turns,  were  a  pleasant  sight.  Their  teacher  had 
promised  to  lead  off  in  the  exercise,  and  as  soon  as  all* were 
ready,  she  announced  that  her  favorite  was,  and  always  had 
been,  since  she  had  read  enough  history  to  make  a  choice, 
William  of  Orange,  the  husband  of  Mary,  Queen  of  England. 
Her  essay  was  a  brief  sketch  of  his  early  life,  and  the  more 
prominent  deeds  in  his  subsequent  career.  She  dwelt 
especially  upon  the  fact  that  he  had  been  heavily  weighted 
in  the  race  of  life  by  a  weak  and  ailing  body,  and  that  he 
had  nobly  proved  the  power  of  mind  and  character  to  wrest 
victory  from  defeat. 

Her  essay  was  spirited  and  stirring,  and  there  was  a  little 
murmur  of  applause  as  she  concluded,  but  it  was  followed 
by  comments  and  questions  which  showed  more  surprise  at 
her  choice  than  concurrence  in  it. 

"Oh,  Miss  Anna!"  said  Doris,  "he  was  such  a  gloomy, 
morose  sort  of  person — he  made  so  many  enemies!  I  always 
pity  Queen  Mary  for  having  had  such  an  unpleasant  husband, 
as  he  must  have  been  !  " 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  29 

"I  fancy,"  said  Miss  Anna,  "that  the  stern  strength  of 
purpose  which  enabled  him  to  save  Holland,  and  which,  in 
times  of  trouble  and  danger  and  defeat,  even,  kept  him  from 
yielding,  must  often  have  made  him  appear  morose,  when,  in 
reality,  he  was  only  silent  because  he  feared  that  speaking  at 
all  would  seem  like  complaining.  Perhaps  his  wife  under 
stood  this,  and  was  sensible  enough  not  to  fret  him  with 
foolish  talk  while  the  fate  of  a  nation  trembled  in  the 
balance.  I  often  wonder  at  the  patience  with  which  men 
listen,  and  even  respond  to,  the  trivialities  and  sillinesses  of 
women,  when  trouble  and  care  are  absorbing  all  their 
faculties,  and  I  cannot  help  hoping  that  my  seven  little 
women  will  apply  certain  of  their  history  lessons  to  private 
life.  None  of  your  fathers  or  brothers  are  warriors  and 
statesmen,  but  all  of  them  are,  or  will  be,  fighting  the  battle 
of  life,  that  those  most  dear  to  them  may  have  a  safe  and 
sheltered  home,  and  while  it  is  not  given  to  all  women  to 
help  in  this,  it  belongs  to  each  woman  never  to  hinder.  Wood 
is  an  inert  and  lifeless  thing,  but  it  may  lie  heavily  on  the 
ground  as  a  stumbling-block,  or  be  hewn  into  a  staff.  Now, 
Hilda,  you  are  oldest.  Who  is  your  choice,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Alfred  the  Great,"  replied  Hilda,  in  her  clear,  deliberate 
tones.  "He  was  able,  when  effort  became  impossible,  to 
wait,  with  calm  philosophy,  for  the  turning  of  the  tide  in  his 
affairs.  I  think  patience  is  often  a  far  grander  thing,  and 
far  more  noble,  than  the  restless  energy  which  would  force 
events  before  the  time  for  them  is  ripe." 

There  were  one  or  two  indignant  murmurs  from  the  more 
impetuous  of  the  girls  at  this,  but  Hilda,  calmly  ignoring 
them,  proceeded  to  read  her  well-written  essay. 

Miss  Anna  praised  it  freely  and  kindly,  but  added  a  gentle 
word  of  warning  against  allowing  patience  to  degenerate 
into  indolence,  at  which  Doris  quietly  pinched  Hilda's  arm, 
with  a  triumphant  little  smile. 


30  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Grace  and  Sara  Lilienthal  were  twins,  and  had  never  yet 
been  known  to  differ  about  anything.  They  were  rather 
romantic,  with  a  tendency  to  indiscriminate  hero-worship, 
and  thei*  choice  in  this,  as  in  everything  else,  was  the  same. 
Grace,' who  generally  took  the  lead,  said  that.  King  Charles 
the  Martyr  was  their  hero,  and  that  they  had  each  written 
an  essay  upon  him,  but  had  been  careful  not  to  compare 
notes,  or  exchange  ideas,  so  that  the  essays  would,  of  course, 
be  entirely  different  each  from  the  other. 

Grace  read  hers  first ;  Sara  followed,  and  as  she  read  on, 
a  smile  went  round  which,  as  she  laid  down  her  paper,  rip 
pled  into  a  laugh,  in  which  the  victims,  and  even  Miss 
Eobeston  joined.  For,  although  no  one  for  a  moment 
doubted  the  truth  of  Grace's  statement,  the  ideas,  and  even 
the  language  of  both  essays,  were  almost  identical. 

Jane  Barrett  had  chosen  her  namesake,  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
and  her  simple  and  pathetic  little  essay  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  Doris,  and  one  or  two  more  of  the  excitable  ones. 
Clara,  a  patient,  plodding  student,  whose  untiring  industry 
made  up  for  her  lack  of  quickness,  had  chosen  Robert  Bruce, 
and  in  her  absence,  her  sister  read  her  essay  for  her. 
Doris  announced  that  Henry  of  Navarre  was  her  choice,  and 
concluded  her  essay  by  reading,  in  her  most  spirited  manner, 
Macaulay's  ballad  upon  him.  Christine  chose  Harold  the 
Dane,  and  her  essay  was  in  heroic  blank  verse. 

Much  lively  discussion  took  place  between  and  after  the 
readings,  and  all  were  surprised  when  Miss  Anna,  glancing 
at  her  watch,  remarked  that  it  was  ten  minutes  beyond  the 
usual  hour  of  dismissal.  They  ^  *"d  that  they  might  have 
either  a  continuance  of  th°'  es,  or  a  fresh  exercise  of  a 

similar  nature,  the  followi.  ~k,  but  Miss  Anna  said  that 
this  would  be  much  too  soon,  and  would  take  time  and  at 
tention  which  should  be  given  to  their  regular  studies. 

"  But  a  month  from  to-day,"  she  added,  "  I  would  like  each 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  31 

of  you  to  bring  me  an  essay,  similar  to  those  yon  have  brought 
this  morning,  upon  the  character  in  history,  either  ancient 
or  modern,  sacred  or  profane,  which  seems  to  you  most 
despicable  and  blame  worthy.  And  I  wish  yon  to  do  this 
very  carefully ;  try  to  divest  your  minds  of  all  unreasoning 
prejudice,  sift  your  reasons  and  motives  for  your  opinions, 
and  be  perfectly  candid,  both  with  yourself  and  me.  I  tried 
this  experiment,  intending  to  continue  the  exercises  if  I 
were  pleased  with  the  result  of  the  first  one.  I  am  more 
than  pleased.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  spent  a  more 
delightful  two  hours,  and  I  think,  to  judge  from  your  faces, 
that  each  of  you  can  say  the  same.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
me  to  give  you  a  list  of  the  subsequent  exercises,  that  you 
may  have  more  opportunity  and  leisure  to  prepare  for  them. 
Have  you  your  note-books  and  pencils  ?  Very  well,  I  will 
read  the  list  slowly,  and  each  can  write  it  down : 

"  The  noblest  deed  recorded  in  history. 

"The  most  despicable  deed. 

"  The  brightest  and  most  useful  reigns  in  England,  France, 
Germany,  and  Spain,  taken,  of  course,  successively. 

"  That,  you  see,  will  take  us  to  the  June  vacation.  There, 
now,  you  must  be  off.  Thank  you  for  the  patience  with 
which  you  have  allowed  me  to  keep  you  beyond  the  time." 

Eager  protests  and  affectionate  good-byes  were  given,  and 
then  books  and  papers  were  collected,  and  the  girls  dispersed 
to  their  different  homes. 


CHAPTEE    II. 

DORIS  found  her  mother  looking  much  better  for  a 
refreshing  sleep  ;  Dr.  Svensen's  powders  seemed  to 
have  restored  the  baby  to  quietness  and  comfort,  and  there 
appeared  to  be  no  reason  why  father  and  daughter  might  not 
go  with  easy  minds  to  their  musical  evening ;  indeed,  Mr. 
Campbell  tried  to  persuade  his  wife  that  she  could  join  them 
with  perfect  safety  to  the  baby,  but  this  she  gently  refused 
to  do. 

"  I  should  be  fancying  all  the  evening  that  I  heard  baby 
crying,  dear,"  she  said,  "  and  I  could  take  no  real  pleasure 
in  the  music  and  lively  talk.  No — you  and  Doris  will  tell 
me  all  about  it  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  like  that  far  better. 
Come,  little  daughter,  it  is  high  time  you  were  dressing  for 
dinner.  Papa  is  always  punctual,  you  know,  and  he  has 
ordered  the  carriage  for  seven  o'clock." 

Doris's  gown  was  a  very  simple  one  of  white  muslin,  tied 
at  the  waist  with  a  broad  white  ribbon ;  but  her  bright  eyes 
and  rosy  cheeks  made  it  seem  quite  enough. 

"Am  I  all  right,  mamma?"  she  asked,  dancing  in  for 
inspection,  when  Nana,  who  helped  her  to  dress,  had  pro 
nounced  her  ready. 

"Yes,  darling,"  replied  her  mother,  kissing  her  fondly, 
"you  look  very  neat  and  nice — and  you  are  growing  so  fast, 
that  papa  declares  he  will  put  a  weight  on  your  head,  for  he 
is  not  ready  to  lose  his  little  girl  yet  awhile." 

"He  isn't  going  to  lose  her,  mamma!"  said  Doris,  gaily. 
"I'm  nowhere  near  ready  to  be  a  young  woman  yet,  if  I  am 
almost  as  tall  as  you  are.  Just  think  of  all  the  things  I  have 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  33 

to  learn  first.  Good-bye — do  be  good,  and  go  to  bed  early  ; 
you  look  tired  yet.  I  do  so  wish  you  could  come  with  us." 

It  was  still  daylight  as  the  open  carriage  rolled  down  the 
avenue ;  the  full  moon,  just  risen,  seemed  to  contend  for  the 
mastery  with  the  lingering  light  of  the  sun  ;  here  and  there 
a  large  star  was  beginning  to  twinkle.  A  gentle  breeze  gave 
a  tremulous  motion  to  the  fronds  of  the  palm-trees,  pro 
ducing  a  soft,  monotonous,  clicking  sound;  the  hedges  of 
Barbadoes  thorn  on  either  side  of  the  avenue  were  bright 
with  their  rich  red  and  yellow  blossoms,  and  the  air  was  laden 
with  the  scent  of  many  flowers. 

"  Dear  papa,  how  lovely  it  all  is  ! "  said  Doris,  impulsive 
ly.  "I  wonder  why,  when  everything  is  so  perfect,  it  gives 
one  a  sort  of  heartache.  It  is  not  exactly  that  I  am  afraid  it 
will  not  last,  for  I  can't  see  any  reason  why  it  should  not ;  it 
often  puzzles  me,  that  feeling  of  sadness  that  has  no  cause, 
for  it  comes  whenever  I  hear  very  beautiful  music,  or  see  a 
glorious  sunset,  or  stand  and  look  far  out  to  sea.  Do  you 
feel  that  way,  too  ?  " 

"I  used  to,  darling,"  replied  her  father,  "but  since  I  have 
grown  older,  and  have  known  a  little  real  trouble,  the  feeling 
of  which  you  speak  seldom  comes  back.  Don't  you  remem 
ber,  Miss  Barrett,  in  the  '  Lost  Bower,'  speaks  of  those  '  mild 
dejections  in  the  starlight,  which  the  sadder-hearted  miss  ?'  " 

"Yes,  papa — I  always  like  that  poem  so  much,  for  it 
makes  me  think  of  my  grotto  on  the  shore,  somehow.  And 
I  think  I  know  just  what  she  meant — it  is  not  like  real  sad 
ness  or  unhappiness,  after  all,  for  it  is  quite  as  pleasant  as  it 
is  painful.  You  know  I  always  used  to  hide  in  the  corner 
behind  the  sofa,  and  cry  a  little,  when  you  and  mamma  sang 
together;  and  I  do  believe  I  should  cry  sometimes  now, 
when  I  hear  music,  if  I  were  not  ashamed ! " 

"It  is  to  be  hoped,  then,  that  Mr.  Santon  will  not  give  us 
anything  very  pathetic,"  said  her  father,  smiling,  "  for  he 


34  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

might  not  understand  that  your  tears  were  a  flattering 
tribute  to  his  genius,,  but  might  construe  them  in  quite 
another  way ! " 

"  Very  well,  papa,  if  I  feel  that  I  really  must  cry,  I  shall 
make  a  face  at  you — so! — and  then  you  will  immediately 
offer  me  your  arm  for  a  turn  on  the  veranda." 

Their  road  lay  partly  along  the  beach,  or  rather,  near  the 
edge  of  the  rocky  bluff  above  it.  The  blue  water  sparkled  in 
the  moonlight  and  gently  lapped  the  shore,  and  Doris  fell 
silent,  listening  and  looking,  until  the  carriage  turned  into 
the  avenue  through  Mrs.  Santon's  plantation. 

A  number  of  people  were  already  assembled  in  the  long, 
cool  parlor  ;  they  were  all  friends  or  acquaintances  of  the 
Campbells,  so  the  only  introduction  was  to  Mr.  Santon.  He 
appeared  to  be  about  thirty-three  or  four  years  old,  and  was 
tall  and  commanding-looking.  He  was  not  handsome,  but 
Lis  face  was  pleasant  and  frank,  with  a  look  of  sturdy  reso 
lution  which  Doris  liked.  He  had  very  early  chosen  music 
as  his  profession,  beginning  to  study  it  while  he  was  still  at 
school,  and  going  abroad  for  better  opportunities  to  pursue 
vhis  studies  as  soon  as  he  came  of  age  and  into  possession  of 
his  share  of  the  small  estate  which  his  father  had  left.  He 
was  nine  or  ten  years  younger  than  Mrs.  Santon,  who  was 
the  widow  of  his  only  brother,  and  had  an  independent  for 
tune  of  her  own,  but  a  very  warm  friendship  subsisted  be 
tween  them,  and  he  was  more  like  an  older  brother  than  an 
uncle  to  her  daughter  and  son. 

Antoinette  Santon,  a  sweet  and  gentle  girl  about  seven 
teen  years  old,  had  always  been  more  or  less  an  invalid,  but, 
although  unable  to  share  Miss  Robeston's  instructions  with 
the  other  girls,  she  had  read  and  studied  much;  she  was  un 
selfishly  bright  and  cheerful,  and  Doris  sometimes  thought 
of  her  with  a  little  feeling  of  envy.  It  must  be  so  easy  to  be 
good,  she  thought,  lying  there  surrounded  with  every  com- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  35 

fort  and  luxury  which  love  could  devise  and  money  buy ; 
waited  on,  hand  and  foot;  shut  in  from  all  the  temptations 
and  vexations  which  beset  the  lives  of  people  who  mix  freely 
with  the  outside  world.  Seeing  Antoinette,  as  she  always 
did  see  her,  prettily  dressed,  pleasantly  occupied  with  books 
or  fancy-work,  she  did  not  stop  to  consider  the  weary  hours 
of  pain  and  still  more  weary  hours  of  weakness,  when  any 
occupation  was  impossible,  which  the  poor  girl  passed  in  her 
beautiful  prison. 

Victor  Santon  was  two  years  older  than  his  sister,  and  his 
devotion  to  her  had  had  more  effect  than  he  knew  in  enno 
bling  his  life  and  character.  He  had  elected  to  study  under 
a  tutor  at  home,  rather  than  leave  her  to  go  to  school  and 
college,  but  now  their  first  separation  was  about  to  take 
place.  He  had  resolved  to  study  theology,  and  it  would  be 
necessary  for  him  to  go,  for  at  least  two  or  three  years,  either 
to  England  or  the  United  States.  He  had  chosen  the  latter, 
and  his  uncle,  instead  of  going  directly  there  from  England, 
as  he  had  intended,  had  come  out  of  his  way,  that  he  might 
accompany  Victor,  and  see  him  fairly  started  in  his  new 
life. 

Antoinette,  with  her  customary  unselfishness,  had  spoken 
cheerfully  and  hopefully  to  Victor  about  their  approaching 
separation;  his  letters  would  be  so  delightful— he  would 
have  so  much  to  tell,  and  then,  what  a  joyful  meeting  there 
would  be  on  his  return !  But  her  face  was  paler  even  than 
usual,  and  her  mother,  who  slept  in  an  adjoining  room,  had 
heard  her  stifled  sobbing  in  the  night  many  times  since  the 
decision  was  made. 

There  was  a  hum  of  conversation  around  Antoinette's 
sofa,  at  first ;  many  of  the  ladies  had  come  distances  of  ten 
or  twelve  miles,  and  had  not  met  each  other  before  for  days 
or  weeks,  and  the  talking  and  laughter  threatened,  Doris 
thought,  to  consume  far  too  much  of  the  precious  time, 


36  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

when  one  of  the  older  ladies  suddenly  arrived  at,  and  an 
nounced,  the  same  conclusion,  and  there  was  an  immediate 
silence. 

"I  have  told  my  sister  what  I  think  of  this  proceeding," 
said  Mr.  Santon,  smiling,  as  he  walked  to  the  piano,  "and 
she  takes  the  sole  responsibility,  but  that  does  not  relieve  me 
from  a  feeling  that  I  am  a  fearful  egotist!  I  shall  make 
frequent  pauses,  in  which  to  judge  of  how  tired  you  are,  and 
I  promise  to  be  merciful." 

A  fresh  hum  of  protestation  and  entreaty  arose  at  this, 
and  only  ceased  as  Mr.  Santon  arranged  his  music  on  the 
rack,  and  struck  a  trial  chord.  It  was  not  usual,  then,  for 
young  girls  to  whisper  and  giggle  during  the  performance  of 
music ;  so  a  profound  silence  was  kept  by  the  audience,  at 
first  from  politeness,  but  very  soon  from  delighted  apprecia 
tion.  The  piano  was  a  fine  one,  and  Mr.  Santon  drew  from 
it  such  music  as  Doris,  at  least,  had  never  before  listened  to. 
She  lost  consciousness  of  time,  place,  everything,  but  the 
rapture  of  listening;  her  face  flushed  and  paled,  tears  stole 
down  her  cheeks,  but  of  this  she  was  quite  unaware.  Her 
rapt  expression  was  not  lost  on  the  performer  ;  he  could  see 
that  all  the  rest  were  enjoying  the  music  very  fully,  but  no 
face  was  kindled  with  it  as  hers  was,  and  he  soon  found 
himself  playing  for  her  alone. 

He  had  a  very  fine  tenor  voice,  and  he  sang  several  bal 
lads,  pronouncing  the  words  so  clearly  that  none  were  lost  to 
his  hearers.  One  of  these,  in  particular,  haunted  Doris  long 
afterward  with  its  plaintive  notes  ;  she  was  longing  to  ask 
what  it  was,  when  Mrs.  Santon  made  the  inquiry,  and  her 
brother  replied : 

"The  tune  is  an  old  Scotch  air  called  'Mrs.  Macdonald,' 
and  I  rather  think  the  words  are  by  Burns — they  were  not 
intended  for  each  other,  originally,  but  they  seemed  to  me 
to  harmonize,  so  I  fitted  them  together.  They  are  too 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  37 

mournful  for  ray  liking,  but  I  have  observed  that  most 
happy  people  are  especially  fond  of  mournful  music." 

He  was  asked  to  repeat  the  song,  and  obligingly  did  so, 
and  by  this  means  Doris,  who  had  a  quick  ear  both  for  music 
and  rhyme,  caught  the  air,  and  most  of  the  words.  Of  one 
line,  ending  with  "  sweet  painful  pleasure,"  she  failed  to  hear 
the  rest,  but  the  expression  struck  her,  as  expressing  the 
feeling  she  had  vainly  tried  to  describe  to  her  father. 

"Did  you  hear  the  words,  'Toinette  ?"  she  whispered,  as 
the  singer  paused. 

"  Not  all  of  them."  Antoinette  replied,  "  but  it  made  me 
want  to  cry,  and— why,  Doris,  you  are  crying!" 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know— I  hope  nobody  noticed ! "  and  Doris 
bent  her  flushed  face  still  nearer  to  her  friend's,  but  just 
then  Mr.  Santon  began  to  play  again,  and  every  other  sense 
was  absorbed  in  that  of  hearing. 

The  evening  seemed  all  too  short,  and  Doris  raised  entreat 
ing  eyes  to  her  father's  face  when  Mrs.  Santon  begged  that 
she,  at  least,  would  remain  all  night. 

"And  condemn  me  to  a  lonely  drive  home  ?"  asked  Mr. 
Campbell,  half  laughing,  and  half  serious. 

"  Oh  no,  papa,  I  did  not  think— I  will  be  ready  in  five 
minutes.  Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Santon,  but  I  did  not  think 
how  selfish  it  would  be  to  papa." 

She  flew  to  get  her  shawl,  and  Mrs.  Santon  said  to  her 
father : 

"  What  a  dear  little  thing  she  is,  Mr.  Campbell ;  so  warm 
hearted  and  impulsive.  I  wish  'Toinette  might  see  her 
oftener;  she  comes  in  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air." 

"Has  she  studied  music?"  inquired  Mr.  Santon,  before 
Mr.  Campbell  could  reply,  adding,  "  I  was  struck  by  the  ex 
pression  of  her  face  while  I  was  playing  ;  I  don't  believe  she 
was  conscious  of  anything  but  the  music,  and  her  delight 
in  it." 


38  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  She  has  been  taking  lessons  for  two  years,"  said  Mr. 
Campbell,  much  gratified,  "  and  has  made  very  fair  progress, 
but  she  is  impatient  of  the  drudgery,  and  wants  to  run  be 
fore  she  can  walk ;  she  has  a  very  quick  ear,  too ;  and  this 
has  proved  a  hindrance,  rather  than  a  help,  for  her  teacher 
says  that  if  she  once  hears  any  thing  played,  she  catches  the 
tune  by  ear,  and  seems  annoyed  with  being  obliged  to 
count." 

Doris  had  been  saying  good-bye  to  Antoinette  and  Hilda  ; 
she  approached  now,  a  soft  white  shawl  hanging  from  her 
shoulders,  and  a  black  lace  veil  tied  loosely  over  her  hair. 

"  Will  you  introduce  me  ?  "  said  Mr.  San  ton,  in  a  low  voice, 
to  her  father. 

"This  is  my  daughter  Doris,  Mr.  Santon,"  said  Mr. 
Campbell,  "  and  I  need  not  tell  you  that  she  is  happy  to 
become  acquainted  with  you — her  face  tells  that." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  much,  so  very  much  obliged  to  you ! "  said 
Doris,  looking  up  in  his  face  with  a  glad  light  in  her  eyes, 
"  I  never  heard  such  music  before — how  happy  you  must  be, 
to  be  able  to  play  and  sing  as  you  did  to-night!" 

"  Yes,  it  is  always  pleasant  to  give  pleasure,"  he  answered, 
smiling;  "it  is  one  compensation  for  the  hours  of  drudgery 
which  lay  the  foundation  of  success  in  any  calling." 

"Drudgery?"  questioned  Doris,  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  he  said;  "there  is  more  or  less  of  it  in  all 
professions,  but  I  know  of  few  in  which  there  is  so  much  as 
there  is  in  mine." 

"But  I  thought  that  when  people  had  genius "  began 

Doris,  and  then  stopped,  unable  to  put  her  thought  into 
satisfactory  words. 

"  Somebody  has  said  that  genius  and  industry  are  synon 
ymous  terms,"  said  Mr.  Santon,  when  he  saw  that  she  was 
not  going  to  finish  her  sentence,  "and  while  I  do  not,  per- 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  39 

haps,  wholly  agree  with  the  statement,  I  come  very  near 
doing  so. 

"Will  you  allow  my  sister  and  myself  to  call  for  Miss 
Campbell,  when  we  take  our  ride  to-morrow  morning  ?  "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Mr.  Campbell ;  "  I  fear  I  am  detaining  you 
now,  and  I  do  not  feel  as  if  we  had  finished  our  talk." 

"I  will,  with  much  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Campbell,  "and 
I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  my  little  girl,  as,  I  am  sure, 
she  does,  too." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  I  do ! "  said  Doris,  gratefully ;  "  I  did  so 
want  to  ask  you  some  questions  about  music,  but  I  did  not 
suppose  that  I  should  have  such  a  chance  as  this! " 

"Is  it  weak-minded,  I  wonder,  to  take  pleasure  in  being 
so  over-rated  ?"  said  Mr.  San  ton.  "I  will  not  say  good-bye, 
then  ;  will  you  be  ready  by  five  o'clock  ?  " 

"Oh  yes,  quite  ready — I  always  go  at  about  that  time. 
Good-night!" 

And  she  sprang  into  the  carriage  before  he  could  offer  to 
help  her. 

"  Now,  what  a  very  nice,  frank,  unaffected  little  girl  that 
is,"  said  Mr.  Santon  to  his  sister,  as  they  paced  up  and 
down  the  veranda  in  the  moonlight,  for  by  this  time  all  the 
guests,  save  those  who  would  remain  all  night,  were  gone. 

"I  hope  I  can  help  her  a  little,"  he  added.  "I  remem 
ber  well  how  gaily  I  set  out  with  her  views,  and  the  despair 
ing  reaction  that  ensued  when  I  began  to  see  what  I  had 
undertaken.  She  looks  to  me  as  if  she  were  governed,  as 
yet,  too  much  by  impulse,  and  if  she  really  has  genius,  or 
even  talent,  it  is  a  pity  it  should  be  thrown  away." 

"  Not  tired  of  converting  the  world  yet,  I  sec,  Louis," 
said  his  sister,  smiling. 

He  colored  a  little  as  he  replied  : 

"  Not  tired  of  trying  to  help  it,  you  mean,  my  dear  sister. 


40  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

I  hope  I  am  not  audacious  enough  to  think  that  I  can  con 
vert  even  a  small  section  of  it." 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Campbell  and  Doris  were  driving  happily 
home.  He  had  enjoyed  the  evening  nearly  as  much  as  she 
had,  and  he  was  much  gratified  with  Mr.  Santon's  kindly 
interest  in  his  daughter. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  oversleeping  yourself,  dear?"  he 
asked,  mischievously;  "this  is  great  dissipation  for  you — 
you  will  not  be  in  bed  much  before  twelve  o'clock." 

"Oh,  papa!  As  if  I  could,  when  anybody  like  Mr.  San- 
ton— you're  laughing  at  me,  you  teasing  father  !  I  might 
have  known  it,  if  I  had  stopped  to  think  !" 

They  had  expected  to  find  the  house  dark  and  silent,  as  it 
usually  was  at  that  hour,  but,  when  they  were  about  half 
way  up  the  avenue,  they  saw  that  the  front  door  was  wide 
open,  and  that  a  bright  light  was  burning  in  the  hall. 

"I  do  believe,"  exclaimed  Doris,  "that  mamma  is  sitting 
up  for  us,  and  she  must  have  been  so  tired.  Papa!  there  is 
a  horse  tied  to  the  post — it  is  a  gray  horse — oh,  papa!"  and 
Doris  seized  her  father's  hand,  her  heart  cold  with  a  name 
less  fear. 

"Drive  faster,  Gabriel,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  leaning  for 
ward.  "  Yes,  my  darling,  it  is  the  doctor's  horse ;  baby 
must  be  worse.  I  ought  not  to  have  gone." 

They  sat  silent,  hand  closely  clasped  in  hand,  for  the  few 
minutes  that  intervened  before  the  carriage  stopped  and 
they  sprang  out.  Two  or  three  of  the  servants  were  talking 
softly  together  in  a  corner  of  the  hall,  and  as  Doris  passed 
them,  she  heard  one  of  them  say  : 

"Yes,  I  knowed  when  de  dawg  howl  dis  mawnin',  ?foh 
light,  right  'neaf  Miss  Agnes'  window " 

Doris  hurried  on,  covering  her  ears  with  her  hands,  dread 
ing  to  hear  the  rest. 

All  the  doors  were  wide  open,  for,  although  the  outside 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  41 

air  was  cool  and  pleasant,  the  house  still  retained  heat  from 
the  long  day  of  sunshine ;  so  they  went  directly  to  Mrs. 
Campbell's  room.  She  was  seated  in  the  low  rocking-chair, 
holding  the  baby  on  her  lap,  and  Dr.  Svensen  stood  close  by, 
his  large  fingers  clasping  the  baby's  tiny  wrist. 

Mrs.  Campbell  dared  not  move;  she  looked  up  in  her 
husband's  face,  with  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  she  said : 

"  Oh,  Eobert,  I  am  so  thankful  you  have  come — baby  has 
had  a  convulsion — it  was  dreadful  to  see  her." 

"  And  you  were  all  alone  with  her,  my  poor  darling!  How 
can  I  ever  forgive  myself  ?  " 

And  Mr.  Campbell  knelt  down  beside  the  chair,  and  drew 
his  wife's  head  to  his  shoulder.  Even  that  slight  motion 
seemed  to  disturb  the  baby,  who  had  been  lying  rigidly  still. 
Her  eyelids  fluttered,  she  gave  a  pitiful  little  cry,  and  in  a 
moment  was  again  rigid  in  a  convulsion. 

The  doctor  was  calm  and  prompt,  giving  orders  to  the 
servants,  and  using  the  needed  remedies,  but  it  was  nearly 
half  an  hour  before  the  rigid  limbs  and  set  features  re 
laxed. 

Doris  looked  on,  her  face  as  white  as  the  baby's,  until  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  Then  she  stole  softly  from  the 
room,  to  throw  herself  on  her  own  bed,  in  an  agony  of 
crying. 

"  God  is  going  to  take  her  back,"  she  moaned,  "  because 
I  wouldn't  love  her.  And  that  will  kill  mamma  and  papa, 
and  it  will  all  be  my  wickedness.  Oh,  if  He  will  only  let 
her  stay,  I  will  love  her  dearly.  I  will  not  be  jealous  and 
wicked  any  more.  They  may  all  love  her  best,  if  they  want 
to — they  may  call  her  '  daughter,'  and  ' darling,'  and  me 
just  nothing  but  Doris  all  the  time,  and  I  will  not  say  a 
word  !  Oh,  I  have  been  so  wicked,  so  mean  !  As  if  they 
could  not  have  loved  us  both — love  isn't  like  sugar  or  salt — 
you  don't  take  away  from  one  person  what  you  give  to 


42  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

another.  Poor  baby,  poor,  dear  little  suffering  baby ;  and 
nobody  can  help  her — she  stayed  in  that  dreadful  fit,  with 
the  doctor  trying  with  all  his  might  to  help  her." 

She  sobbed  hopelessly  for  a  few  minutes.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  she  should  never  close  her  eyes  again  without  seeing 
that  pinched,  marble-white  little  face.  Then  she  slipped 
from  the  bed  to  her  knees.  Every  night  and  morning,  since 
her  earliest  recollection,  she  had  said  her  prayers;  to-night, 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  really  prayed. 

"  0  dear  Father  in  heaven,"  she  said,  speaking  aloud  in 
her  earnestness,  "please  to  punish  me,  and  help  baby. 
Please,  please  don't  let  her  suffer  any  more — make  it  come 
to  me  instead.  I  have  been  very  bad  ;  I  am  truly,  truly 
sorry.  If  she  may  only  get  well,  I  will  love  her,  I  will  be 
good  to  her,  always.  She  shall  never  have  any  trouble  that 
I  can  take  instead.  Please  to  punish  me  some  other  way— 
any  other  way — and  save  baby,  for  Christ's  sake,  Amen." 

A  soft  hand  was  laid  on  her  head,  and  she  saw  that  Nana 
was  standing  beside  her.  The  old  black  woman  gathered 
"  her  chile  "  into  her  arms,  as  she  had  done  so  many  times 
when  Doris  was  ill,  or  in  trouble.  Nana  Lois  had  nursed 
Mrs.  Campbell,  and  all  her  children,  and  she  loved  them 
with  a  love  which  would  gladly  have  endured  persecution 
and  death  for  the  sake  of  the  beloved. 

"  My  little  missy,"  she  said,  in  the  low,  soft  voice,  and 
with  the  indescribable  accent  of  her  race,  "does  you  tink 
Mass'  Robert  would  take  de  little  baby,  or  you,  and  pinch 
you'  fingahs  in  de  doah  ?  " 

Doris  looked  up,  wondering  if  Nana  Lois  were  losing  her 
wits. 

"  Why,  Nana,  you  know  he  wouldn't,"  she  said,  sooth 
ingly  ;  "he  loves  us  too  dearly  to  hurt  us  in  any  way,  or  to 
let  any  one  else  hurt  us,  either." 

' '  Dat's  true  as  true !    And  yet  you  tinks  dear  Fader  above 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  .43 

would  hurt  little  baby  to  punish  you  !  You  musn't  tink 
like  dat,  honey.  If  He  take  baby,  dat  because  it  best  for 
baby,  and  you,  and  all ;  dat  why  He  tell  us,  jus'  say,  <Dy 
will  be  done  ' — 'cause  He  know  all  about  eberyting,  and  we 
don'  know  nuffin.  Now,  will  little  missy  please  say  '  Our 
Fader '  all  de  way  t'rough,  and  den  Nana  will  undress  her, 
like  when  she  was  a  little  baby,  and  put  her  to  sleep.  Baby's 
done  come  out'n  dat  fit,  and  Dr.  Svensen  say  she  not  have 
any  moah,  he  quite  certain  shuah,  and  little  missy  on'y  gib 
trouble,  if  she  go  back  to  Miss  Agnes'  room.  She'll  do  what 
her  Nana  asks  her,  like  a  lamb  ?  " 

The  low,  sweet,  persuasive  voice  prevailed.  Doris  was 
utterly  worn  out  with  excitement  and  fatigue;  she  said 
"  Our  Father "  as  she  had  never  said  it  before,  and  then 
Nana  undressed  her,  and  "crooned"  her  to  sleep,  and  she 
knew  nothing  more  until  dawn  of  the  next  day.  She  was  so 
in  the  habit  of  taking  an  early  ride,  that  she  waked  at  her 
usual  time,  although  Nana  had  carefully  guarded  her  from 
all  noise,  hoping  she  would  sleep.  For  the  first  few  sleepy 
moments  she  forgot  all  the  events  of  the  night  before;  then 
a  sense  of  trouble  began  to  steal  over  her,  and  presently  she 
remembered  everything.  She  fell  upon  her  knees,  and 
prayed  fervently,  but  this  time  for  "help,"  and  "whatever 
will  be  best  for  baby,  and  all  of  us." 

She  was  dressed  when  Nana  stole  softly  to  the  door,  and 
she  found  her  father  pacing  the  veranda.  He  held  out  his 
arms,  saying,  with  a  bright  face : 

"  Baby  is  much  better,  darling — quite  out  of  danger,  and 
she  and  mamma  are  both  sleeping  sweetly.  I  have  been 
waiting  to  tell  you,  for  it  is  nearly  five  o'clock,  and  as  soon 
as  you  have  had  your  glass  of  milk,  I  wish  you  to  put  on 
your  riding-dress,  and  be  ready  for  Mrs.  Santon  and  her 
brother — they  will  be  here  presently." 

"  Oh,  papa!     I  am  so  glad— so  thankful  ! "  and  Doris  hid 


44  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

her  face  on  her  father's  shoulder,  to  cry  a  few  happy  tears  ; 
"  but  indeed,  I  wish  you  would  excuse  me  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Santon — it  seems  so  heartless  for  me  to  go  oif  on  a  pleasure- 
trip,  when  baby  is  only  just  out  of  danger.  I'd  really  rather 
not  go." 

"  I  wish  you  to  go,  darling,"  said  her  father,  kindly,  but 
very  firmly  ;  "it  will  do  you  good,  after  the  trouble  and 
excitement  of  last  night,  and  beside,  you  must  not  miss  the 
rare  chance  of  a  talk  with  Mr.  Santon.  We  will  have  a  talk 
when  you  come  back,"  he  added,  seeing  how  slowly  and  re 
luctantly  she  went;  "now  run — you  must  not  keep  them 
waiting. " 

Very  unwillingly  Doris  made  ready,  and  started  on  the 
ride  which  she  had  anticipated  with  such  keen  delight. 
Victor  Santon  accompanied  his  mother  and  uncle,  and  this 
left  the  Professor  free  to  talk  with  Doris.  It  was  not  long- 
before  the  sweet,  cool  air,  the  rapid  motion,  and  Mr.  San- 
ton's  pleasant  manner,  made  her  oblivious  of  everything  but 
the  pleasure  of  the  hour,  and  she  never  forgot  that  morn 
ing's  talk.  He  tried,  by  argument  and  illustration,  to  con 
vince  her  of  the  necessity  of  patient,  unremitting,  plodding 
study,  if  she  hoped  to  succeed  as  a  musician,  or  anything 
else.  She  was  skeptical,  at  first,  but  her  skepticism  had  no 
foundation,  while  Mr.  Santon  could  give  abundant  proof  of 
the  truth  of  his  statements. 

"It  will  first  discourage,  and  then  inspire  you,  Miss 
Campbell,"  he  said,  "to  read  the  lives  of  some  of  our 
world-renowned  musicians,  and  see  how  they  earned  fame 
and  fortune — when  they  did  earn  both  ;  they  did  not, 
always.  Why,  even  a  circus-clown  must  give  days  and 
hours  to  practice  before  he  can  ride  round  the  ring  in  appar 
ently  careless  fashion,  balanced  on  his  horse  by  one  hand. 
Half— nay,  I  really  believe,  all  the  dismal  failures  in  this 
world  are  caused  by  an  under-estimate  of  what  is  necessary 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  45 

to  secure  success.  It  is  better  to  look  the  question  fairly  in 
the  face,  at  the  outset,  to  weigh  the  price  to  be  paid,  and 
then  decide,  than  to  plunge  in  unthinkingly,  and  then  draw 
back  as  soon  as  the  way  becomes  really  difficult.  If  you  love 
music  as  I  think  you  do,  and  have  even  a  small  amount  of 
talent,  you  can  become  proficient  enough  to  give  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure,  both  to  yourself  and  other  people,  without 
devoting  the  whole  of  your  life  to  it,  but  you  must  devote  a 
fixed  amount  of  time  and  undivided  attention,  or  you  will 
only  add  one  to  the  great  army  of  incapables — which  is  im 
measurably  too  large,  now." 

Doris  was  silent  so  long,  after  Mr.  Santon  ceased  speaking, 
that  he  glanced  at  her  face,  thinking  that  perhaps  his  plain 
language  had  annoyed  or  offended  her,  but  he  soon  saw  that 
she  was  only  thinking. 

"  I  see  I  have  been  very  much  mistaken,"  she  said  at  last, 
"  and  if  you  had  not  been  kind  enough  to  tell  me  all  this, 
I  should  have  kept  on  in  my  mistake,  until  I,  too,  would 
have  belonged  to  the  '  army  of  incapables.'  I  cannot  say  just, 
now  what  I  shall  do,  Mr.  Santon,  but  one  thing  I  promise 
you  :  if  I  do  not  decide  to  give  music  the  time  and  attention 
which  I  now  see  that  it  requires,  I  will  ask  papa  and 
mamma  to  let  me  give  it  up  altogether.  I  will  not  be  a 
smatterer." 

"  It  gives  me  real  pleasure  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said 
Mr.  Santon,  heartily,  "for  I  feel  nearly  sure  that  you  will  de 
cide  to  keep  on.  You  love  it  too  well,  I  think,  to  draw  back 


"  Might  I  not  love  it  too  well  to  keep  on  ?  "  asked  Doris, 
smiling. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  might,"  assented  Mr.  Santon,  "but  it 
would  be  a  weak  love,  compared  with  the  other.  Would  it 
help  you  at  all,  Miss  Campbell,"  he  added,  suddenly,  "to 


46  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

write  to  me  occasionally,  as  you  come  to  any  special  difficulty, 
and  allow  me  to  write  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  would,  indeed,"  said  Doris,  earnestly  and  gratefully, 
but,  as  he  noticed,  without  the  bright  enthusiasm  of  the 
night  before,  "  that  is,  of  course,  should  I  decide  to  keep  on. 
I  must  think  well  about  it,  first ;  but  I  shall  thank  you 
just  the  same  for  your  great  kindness,  whichever  way  I 
decide." 

"I  feel  so  nearly  sure  of  your  decision,"  said  Mr.  San  ton, 
smiling,  "that  I  shall  ask  your  father's  permission  to  write 
to  you  before  I  leave  the  Island." 

This  permission  Mr.  Campbell  very  willingly  granted.  He 
had  known  Mr.  Santon  sa  a  boy,  and  afterward,  at  intervals, 
as  a  man,  and  he  had  never  seen  anything  to  cause  him  to 
change  his  opinion,  formed  many  years  ago,  of  the  manly, 
honest,  earnest  boy,  who  had  done  with  his  might  whatever 
mind  or  hand  found  to  do. 

Mr.  Santon  said  good-bye  that  morning,  for  he  expected  to 
sail  on  the  following  day,  and  his  remaining  time  would  be 
fully  occupied. .  Victor,  too,  had  his  good-byes  to  say.  He 
had  been  not  a  little  disappointed  when  he  found  how  com 
pletely  Doris  was  absorbed  by  his  uncle ;  he  and  she  had 
been  playmates  and  comrades  from  the  time  when,  seated  on 
the  floor,  he  had  with  baby  hospitality,  permitted  her  to  ap 
propriate  all  his  toys,  and  even  to  pull  his  hair,  and  he  had 
counted  upon  a  farewell  talk  with  her.  His  disappointment 
showed  so  plainly  in  his  face,  as  he  held  out  his  hand,  saying 
simply  :  "  Good-bye,  Doris.  Don't  forget  me,  if  you  can 
help  it,"  that  she  expressed  her  regret  for  his  departure  with 
frank  friendliness,  telling  him  how  much  they  should  all 
miss  him. 

"  And  you'll  go  to  see  'Toinette  often  ?  "  he  said,  entreat- 
ingly.  "  She  has  been  just  as  cheerful  and  sweet  as  she  always 
is,  but  I  know  how  she  will  miss  me." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  47 

"Indeed  I  will,"  said  Doris,  heartily;  "Fm  so  fond  of 
'Toinette,  that  it  will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  do  it,  hut  I  would 
go,  anyhow,  if  you  asked  me,  just  to  please  you! " 

Victor's  face  brightened  perceptibly,  but  his  grateful  reply 
was  cut  short  by  his  uncle's  brisk — 

"  Come,  my  boy,  we  must  hurry  home ;  we've  a  good  deal 
to  do  between  this  and  to-morrow  evening." 

Doris  stood  watching  them  until  a  turn  in  the  avenue  hid 
them  from  sight. 

"It's  like  the  end  of  a  chapter  in  a  book,  papa,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  really  shall  miss  Victor  like— like  everything.  Has 
mamma  waked  yet  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  she  is  nearly  ready  for  breakfast,"  replied  Mr. 
Campbell,  "but  baby  is  still  sleeping  like  a  lamb,  and  the 
doctor  felt  so  relieved  about  her,  that  he  went  home  to  have 
his  bath  and  breakfast,  and  see  if  he  were  urgently  needed 
elsewhere." 

Doris  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  as  she  said :  "I  am  so 
glad,  so  thankful !  Papa,  I  must  tell  you  :  when  I  saw  poor 
baby  looking  so  dreadful  last  night,  I  was  afraid  God  meant 
to  take  her  back  again,  because  I  had  never  been  able  to  be 
glad  she  came.  I  know  the  reason  now.  I  was  jealous ;  I 
was  afraid  you,  and  mamma,  and  Leonard,  and  even  Ntma, 
would  love  her  better  than  they  loved  me,  and  I  felt  as 
if  I  could  not  stand  that.  And  then  it  seemed  to  me  that 
she  was  upsetting  all  our  nice,  pleasant  ways ;  that  mamma 
could  never  go  about  with  us  as  she  did  before  baby  came. 
But  when  I  thought  she  was  going  to  die,  I  am  sure  I  felt 
just  as  if  I  were  a  murderer,  and  I  prayed  God  to  punish 
me,  and  let  her  live.  But  Nana  talked  to  me  ;  she  doesn't 
think  God  does  things  to  punish  us,  but  only  to  help  us,  and 
make  us  better.  Do  you  think  that  too,  papa  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,  darling.  Do  you  not  remember — '  He  doth 
not  afflict  willingly '  ?  We  saw  the  struggle  that  was  going 


48  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

on,  and  your  mother  and  I  have  prayed  that  you  might  be 
given  strength  to  overcome.  We  shall  not  love  you  any  less 
because  we  love  baby  too — love  is  not  measured  and  weighed. 
I  sometimes  think  that  the  more  people  any  one  really 
loves,  the  more  truly  and  perfectly  he  loves  each  one.  It  is 
a  poor  and  selfish  and  low  form  of  love  which  wishes  to 
engross,  or  to  be  engrossed,  very  different  from  that  Divine 
love  which  is  held  up  to  us  for  a  pattern." 

"  But  papa/'  said  Doris,  a  little  doubtfully,  "  don't  you 
really  care  ?  don't  you  like  to  be  loved  best  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,  darling,  and  I  suppose  everybody  does  ; 
that  is  human  nature  ;  but  the  Divine  nature  will  be  given 
to  us,  if  we  really  want  it,  and,  with  the  heart  filled  with 
that,  envy  and  jealousy  will  vanish." 


CHAPTER    III. 

IT  was  not  in  Doris's  nature  to  do  anything  by  half.  The 
battle  had  been  a  fierce  one,  and  the  surrender  was 
complete.  Not  that  she  did  not  often  find  the  evil  thoughts 
recurring,  but  now  they  were  promptly  suppressed.  A  rule 
which  her  mother  had  long  ago  given  her  for  the  conquering 
of  resentment  and  ill-feeling,  she  applied  now. 

"  Pray  for  help,  my  darling,  but  don't  stop  there,"  Mrs. 
Campbell  said  ;  "  try  to  think  of  some  kind  act  to  do  for  the 
person  with  whom  you  are  angry,  and  I  think  you  will  gen 
erally  find,  as  you  do  it,  that  your  anger  is  vanishing." 

She  did  not  always  succeed  in  doing  this,  by  any  means; 
for  impulse,  with  her,  so  often  outran  thought,  that  scarcely 
a  day  passed  on  which  she  did  not  say  something  she  would 
gladly  have  recalled.  Often  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
struggle  was  a  hopeless  one,  that  defeat  was  so  frequent,  and 
victory  so  rare,  that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  keep  on  con 
tending  with  herself;  but  here  her  naturally  strong  will 
would  come  to  the  rescue — her  dislike  of  yielding  to  others 
was  almost  equaled  by  her  aversion  to  yielding  to  herself ! 

As  soon  as  she  began  really  to  notice  the  baby,  she 
went  far  beyond  her  father  and  mother  in  praise  of  its 
"sweetness."  The  uncertain  little  smiles  on  its  puckered 
face,  the  groping  hands  that  were  learning  to  clutch  her 
fingers,  the  soft,  inarticulate  noises  which,  she  declared,  were 
attempts  at  speech,  all  filled  her  with  a  new  delight.  And 
very  soon  the  baby  began  unmistakably  to  know  her,  and  to 
greet  her  with  feeble  little  crows  and  chuckles.  The  demon  of 
jealousy  was  very  nearly  vanquished,  when  this  took  place, 
3 


50    '  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

for  love  reigned  instead.  Day  by  day  she  discovered  new 
beauties ;  it  was — 

"Oil,  mamma,  just  look!  her  hair  is  long  enough  to  curl 
round  my  finger,  and  it's  like  spun  gold ! "  or,  "  She's  made 
a  little  dimple  in  her  chin  since  she's  learned  really  to  laugh, 
mamma !"  or,  "  I  do  believe  her  darling  little  feet  arc  prettier 
than  her  hands — no,  perhaps  they're  not  prettier,  but  at  any 
rate,  they  are  quite  as  pretty ! " 

"It  is  too  bad  to  keep  on  calling  her  'baby,'"  Doris  said 
one  day;  "I  wish  we  could  think  of  the  right  name  for  her, 
mamma." 

"  If  she  were  not  such  a  very  unusual  and  superior  baby," 
said  Mr.  Campbell,  gravely,  "  she  would  doubtless  have 
been  named  long  ago.  Suppose  we  wait  until  she  is  nine  or 
ten  years  old,  Doris,  and  let  her  choose  a  name  for  herself ; 
we  can  give  her  a  temporary  name,  just  for  convenience." 

Doris  shook  her  head  wisely. 

"  That  would  not  do  at  all,  papa.  She  might  chose  to  be 
called  something  that  none  of  us  liked.  Papa,  there  is  a 
name  that  I  saw  in  a  book  the  other  day  with  its  meaning, 
and  I  thought  it  was  so  beautiful." 

"  What  was  it,  dear  ?  " 

"Theodora;  and  the  meaning  was  '  The  gift  of  God.' 
Don't  you  think  that's  lovely  ?  Don't  you,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  "  it  is  a  pretty  name  in  itself, 
and  the  meaning  gives  it  a  real  value.  What  do  you  think, 
papa?" 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  replied  Mr.  Campbell;  "  I  have 
always  liked  the  name,  and  I  wonder  we  did  not  think  of  it 
before.  But  it  will  never  do  to  shorten  it  into  Dora,  or  we 
shall  be  mixing  our  daughters  up." 

"Why,  papa,  they  only  sound  a  little  alike,"  said  Doris, 
'•'and,  at  any  rate,  we  could  call  her  Theo;  that's  a  pretty 
nickname  enough,  and  nobody  can  say  that  is  like  Doris." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  51 

"Very  well/'  said  Mr.  Campbell,  smiling  at  Doris's  ear 
nestness;  "  if  mamma  is  willing,  I  am  sure  I  am — what  do  you 
say,  mamma  ?  Shall  it  be  Theodora  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell ;  "  I  like  it  better 
than  any  of  the  names  of  which  we  have  thought,  and  I  am 
sure  baby  will  thank  you,  daughter,  when  she  is  old  enough 
to  understand  about  it." 

Doris  was  greatly  pleased.  She  had  an  added  sense  of 
ownership  in  the  baby,  from  being  allowed  to  name  her,  and 
there  began  to  be  a  slight  danger  that  this  absorbing  baby 
would  keep  her  older  sister  from  giving  a  due  amount  of 
time  and  attention  to  her  studies. 

From  the  25th  of  July  to  the  25th  of  October  the  fierce 
winds  of  the  hurricane  season  prevail  in  Santa  Cruz.  The 
former  is  kept  in  the  churches  as  a  day  of  prayer  and  inter 
cession  ;  the  latter,  as  a  day  of  thanksgiving.  This  day  of 
thanksgiving  occurred  immediately  after  the  baby's  recovery 
from  the  illness  which  had  so  terrified  Doris,  and  it  seemed 
to  the  young  girl  that  she  had  never  before  knelt  in  the  little 
church  with  a  heart  so  truly  and  humbly  grateful.  To  her 
thanksgiving  for  the  general  safety  of  life  and  property— 
for  the  season  had  been  an  unusually  mild  one — was  added  a 
special  thanksgiving  for  the  little  life  which  had  so  nearly 
gone  out. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  must  do  something  to  show  how  thankful  I 
am,  mamma,"  she  said  that  evening,  as  she  was  engaged  in 
her  self-appointed  duty  of  helping  to  give  the  baby  her  bed 
time  bath.  "  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  enough  just  to  say  I  am 
thankful,  when  I  think  how  I  should  have  felt  if  Theo  had 
died  that  dreadful  night.  In  old  times,  people  used  to  make 
thank-offerings  in  churches;  the  kings  and  queens  and 
powerful  people  would  build  cathedrals  and  endow  monas 
teries,  and  the  others,  who  could  not  do  so  much,  would 


52  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

give  money  or  go  on  a  crusade.     It  must  have  been  splendid 
to  be  alive  then,  must  it  not,  mamma?" 

'•'  Yes,  dear,  on  many  accounts ;  but  only  for  the  rich  and 
great  people.  If  you  could  read  a  faithful  history  of  the 
everyday  lives  of  those  who  were  no  higher  in  station  than 
we  are,  for  instance,  I  do  not  think  you  would  wish  those  old 
days  back  again.  And  as  for  the  thank-offering,  we  can 
make  that  out  of  our  daily  lives,  and  it  will  be  far  more 
valuable  and  acceptable  than  any  of  the  rich  gifts  which 
could  only  be  given  once.  We  all  have  inclinations,  and 
tempers,  and  habits,  which  hinder  and  beset  us,  and  these 
we  can  strive,  with  our  Father's  help,  to  give  up." 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  Doris,  slowly;  "I  can  see  what  you 
mean,  but  it's  a  great  deal  harder  than  the  other  way  !  It 
seems  so  strange  that  we  can't  kill  the  badness  in  ourselves 
with  just  one  good,  strong  blow,  as  we  would  kill  a  snake 
or  a  centipede,  instead  of  having  to  kill  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  again,  every  day,  and  ever  so  many  times  a  day,  all 
our  lives— it's  most  dreadfully  discouraging,  when  one 
really  thinks  of  it !  Now,  don't  you  think  it  is,  yourself?" 

"  I  would  think  so,  darling,  if  it  were  not  for  the  sure 
promise  of  help  according  to  our  need.  When  we  fail,  it  is 
because  we  neglect  this  help.  We  cannot  even  think  and 
resolve  as  we  should,  without  it;  with  it  we  can  do  all 
things.  And  when  we  think  about  that  side  of  it— that  we 
are  fighting  with  Him  to  help  us,  who  is  '  mighty  to  save,' 
it  does  not  seem  so  hard." 

Doris  said  nothing  more  just  then,  but  her  mother  knew 
that  she  would  keep  on  thinking  until  she  arrived  at  some 
conclusion.  There  was  a  curious  mixture,  in  her  character, 
of  great  honesty  and  frankness  with  a  kind  of  shy  reserve, 
and  her  mother  knew  by  experience  that  often,  when  she 
seemed  to  take  but  slight  notice  of  what  was  said,  it  sunk 
deep.  Doris  had  begun  to  realize  that  she  was  not  giving 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  53 

due  attention  to  her  studies,  and  after  this  talk  with  her 
mother  she  very  soon  resumed  her  former  diligence. 

The  music  question  had  by  no  means  been  forgotten.    She 
loved  music  dearly,  and  had  always  had  a  vague  intention  of 
becoming  proficient  in  it  by  the  time  when  she  should  be 
grown  up  and  considered  old  enough  to  enter  society ;  but 
this  had  seemed  so  far  ahead  that  she  had  never  felt  as  if 
there  were   any  hurry.     Since   her   talk  with  Mr.  Santon, 
however,  she  had  become  convinced  that  she  was  mistaken, 
and  that,  if  she  really  meant  to  achieve  success,  she  must 
begin  at  once,  and  in  thorough  earnest,  as  he  said.    Her 
parents  had  left  her  perfectly  free  to  choose  whether  she 
would  go  on,  according  to  her  new  light  upon  the  subject,  or 
give  it  up  entirely,  and  they  quite  agreed  with  her  that  it 
had  better  be  one  or  the  other— that  there  were  more  than 
enough   "well-smattered"  performers,  whose   performance 
gave  no  one,  not  even  themselves,  any  particular  pleasure, 
and  that  the  hour  a  day,  which  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
giving   to  her  practicing,  could  be  better  bestowed  upon 
something  else.     Her  real  love  for  music,  and  the  considera 
tion  of  the  pleasure  she  might  give  to  others,  finally  pre 
vailed  over  the   shrinking  from   an   arduous  undertaking 
which  held  her  back,  and  she  decided  to  keep  on  in  good 
earnest,  always  to  practice  two  hours  a  day,  at  the  very  least, 
and  longer,  when  she  could  spare  the  time  without  neglect 
ing  other  duties.     But   among  these  duties,   her    mother 
told  her,  would  be  the  daily  exercise  in  the  open  air,  to 
which  she  was  accustomed.     Mrs.  Campbell  knew  that  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  Doris  pursued  whatever  she  under 
took  made  her,  for  a  time  at  least,  inclined  to  neglect  ordi 
nary  duties  and  pleasures,  and  when  Doris  pleaded  that  the 
early  morning  hours,  with  (heir  quiet  and  coolness,  were  so 
particularly  well  adapted  for  her  practicing,  Mrs.  Campbell 
replied  that  they  were  still  better  suited  to  out-door  exercise, 


54  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

and  that  later  in  the  day,  when  the  heat  was  too  great  for 
the  latter,  the  house  was  cool  and  pleasant/and  there  was 
nothing  to  interfere  with  her  practicing,  either  before  or  after 
school. 

She  did  not  ride  every  day ;  very  often  a  walking-party 
would  be  arranged  the  evening  before,  and  she,  with  four  or 
five  of  her  schoolmates,  would  set  off  in  the  sweet  coolness 
of  the  early  dawn  for  some  point  of  interest  on  the  sea 
shore,  or  at  some  neighboring  plantation.  Little  baskets  of 
dried  rusk  and  fruit,  prepared  by  the  orders  of  the  careful 
mothers,  were  carried  until  some  sufficiently  pleasant  spot 
was  reached,  and  then  the  girls  made  a  merry  picnic  of 
their  "first  breakfast."  It  was  much  more  romantic  than 
if  each  had  quietly  eaten  it  at  home  before  starting,  and 
without  it  fatigue  and  exhaustion  would  have  undone  the 
benefit  derived  from  the  refreshing  breezes  of  the  new  day. 

The  sound  already  spoken  of,  made  by  the  wind  among 
the  stiff  blades  of  the  cocoa-nut  palm,  was  peculiarly  audible 
at  this  quiet  time;  there  were  not  many  singing-birds  in 
that  latitude,  but  this  fact  made  the  girls  listen  more  eagerly, 
and  exclaim  with  greater  pleasure  when  a  stray  bird  song 
was  heard.  The  brightly  flowering  hedges  of  BarbadoeS 
thorn,  which  is  always  in  bloom,  diversified  by  hedges  of 
aloes  and  date-palms,  and  the  cactus  or  prickly  pear,  added 
their  beauties  to  the  landscape,  while  the  feathery  fronds  of 
the  cocoanut-palms  waved  softly  against  the  deep  blue  of 
the  sky.  At  this  hour  of  the  morning  the  planters  would 
be  riding  about,  inspecting  the  work  done  the  day  before, 
and  giving  orders  for  the  day.  All  in  the  neighborhood  were 
on  most  friendly  terms  with  each  other,  and  many  were  the 
invitations  tendered  to  the  merry  party  to  stop  for  the  eight 
o'clock  breakfast,  and,  when  these  were  courteously  de 
clined,  fresh  fruit  was  urged  upon  their  acceptance.  A  very 
old  Avoman,  whose  only  known  name  was  Semira,  kept  her- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  55 

self  provided  with  many  small  comforts  by  selling  a  pleasant 
drink  made  by  steeping  chips  of  the  maube  wood  in  water, 
and  fermenting  it,  as  mead  is  fermented;  the  drink  thus 
made  was  cool  and  refreshing,  and  not  in  the  least  intoxi 
cating.  It  must  be  freshly  made  every  day,  as  it  will  not 
keep  more  than  twenty-four  hours ;  so  the  old  maube  woman 
and  the  members  of  the  walking-party  were  equally  glad  to 
meet  each  other.  Semira  would  go  home  with  her  bottles 
lightened  by  numerous  glasses  of  her  stock-in-trade,  and  her 
wrinkled  black  face  still  more  wrinkled  with  smiles  at  the 
compliments  of  the  "  little  missies  "  and  the  thought  of  the 
pennies  in  her  pocket.  Home  must  be  reached  in  time  for  a 
fresh  toilet  before  the  eight  o'clock  breakfast,  at  which  one 
or  two  neighbors  and  friends  often  joined  the  family.  This 
meal  was  much  like  an  ordinary  breakfast  in  the  Southern 
States,  but  there  were  some  things  which  one  would  not  find 
—the  Avocada  pear  is  always  on  the  table,  a  large,  pear- 
shaped  fruit  called  by  the  negroes  the  "  alligator  pear."  The 
seed  is  one-third  the  size  of  the  whole  fruit,  and  looks  like  a 
large,  brown  nut ;  the  flesh  of  the  pear  looks  something  like 
that  of  a  very  ripe  pumpkin,  or  vegetable-marrow,  but  is  much 
softer,  and  is  sometimes  cut  in  thin  slices  and  dressed  with 
oil  and  vinegar,  as  a  salad.  Bananas  and  roasted  yams,  and 
a  griddle-cake  peculiar  to  the  West  Indies,  called  by  a  Span 
ish  name,  Arepa,  were  the  other  things  which  would  have 
attracted  the  notice  of  a  foreigner. 

To  this  breakfast  all  usually  came  with  a  hearty  appetite- 
Mrs.  Campbell  from  a  walk  in  the  veranda  or  the  grounds, 
Mr.  Campbell  from  his  inspection  of  the  estate,  and  Doris 
from  her  early  walk  or  ride.  Plans  and  projects  for  the  day 
were  discussed,  and  the  meal  was  always  a  cheerful  one.  It 
was  usually  time,  at  its  conclusion,  for  Doris  to  make  ready 
for  school,  that  she  might  walk  slowly,  and  not  be  obliged  to 
hurry  in  the  hourly-increasing  heat.  She  liked,  too,  to 


5G  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

reach  the  school-house  before  the  opening  hour,  that  she 
might  have  a  little  talk  with  her  schoolmates.  Miss  Anna's 
historical  plan  had  roused  them  all,  as  she  hoped  it  would, 
to  a  vivid  and  personal  interest  in  history ;  characters  were 
chosen,  attacked,  and  defended  with  a  warmth  which  some 
times  threatened  to  overstep  the  bounds  of  good-nature ;  but 
one  day,  when  a  rash  and  contradictious  young  woman  had 
entered  upon  a  defence  of  Henry  VIII.  of  England,  and  two 
or  three  tempers  seemed  in  imminent  danger  of  loss  by  fire, 
Hilda's  clear,  cool  voice  cut  short  the  discussion  with— 

"They  have  all  been  dead  for  some  time,  my  dears,  and  I 
am  afraid  that  even  what  we  say  concerning  them  can  have 
no  possible  effect  either  upon  them  or  upon  the  world  at 
large  ! " 

"  Perhaps  not,  Miss  Snow-in-summer,"  said  Christine  Lar- 
sen,  after  she  had  joined  in  the  general  laugh,  "but  don't 
you  see  that  our  views  upon  this,  and  all  subjects,  are  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  ourselves  ?  They  are  indicative  of 
character,  and,  measurably,  of  fate,  for  a  girl  who  could  de 
liberately  contend  that  Henry  the  Eighth  was  a  misguided 
man,  with  noble  intentions  and  lofty  motives " 

u  Would  make  such  a  good  special  pleader,  that  it  is  a 
very  great  pity  she  cannot  have  an  opportunity  to  study  law, 
and  a  wide  field  in  which  to  practice  it,"  interrupted  Hilda, 
just  in  time  to  avert  an  ending  of  the  sentence  "more 
striking  than  classic; "  and  fortunately  at  this  juncture  Miss 
Anna  appeared  upon  the  scene,  and  the  bell  was  rung. 

Doris  by  no  means  foi-got  her  promise  to  Victor  Santon 
about  his  sister  ;  something  had  been  said  which  led  her  to 
think  that  Antoinette  felt  her  imprisonment  more  on  Sun 
day  than  at  any  other  time,  and  Doris  fell  into  the  habit  of 
spending  Sunday  afternoon  with  her  friend,  reading  aloud, 
and  discussing  what  they  read.  Mr.  Campbell  usv.ally  came 
for  his  daughter  early  in  the  evening,  for  the  tropical  t\vi- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  57 

light  is  very  brief,  and  the  darkness  falls  suddenly,  in  a  man 
ner  which  is  always  a  surprise  to  one  unaccustomed  to  it. 

To  Doris's  hopeful  nature,  it  seemed  quite  probable  that 
Antoinette  might  some  day  recover,  and  be  able  to  walk  and 
ride,  and  enjoy  all  the  youthful  pleasures  from  which  she 
was  now  so  sadly  cut  off  ;  but  the  invalid  girl  herself  had  no 
such  hope,  and  gently  checked  her  friend  whenever  she  be 
gan  to  indulge  in  castle-building  of  this  nature. 

Victor's  letters  to  his  sister  were  long  and  affectionate,  and 
always  contained  some  special  message  for  Doris,  and  the 
latter  sometimes  wrote  replies  to  these  letters  from  her 
friend's  dictation,  when  Antoinette  was  feeling  unusually 
weak  or  ill.  Mr.  Santon  had  written  once  to  Doris,  very 
much  as  he  had  talked  with  her,  concluding  his  letter  by 
saying  that  he  awaited  her  decision  with  much  interest,  and 
she  had  replied,  somewhat  shyly  and  briefly,  acquainting 
him  with  it.  Antoinette  entered  warmly  into  the  subject, 
and  her  encouragement  had  influenced  Doris  more  than 
either  of  them  knew. 

"  I  can't  have  a  career  of  my  own,  you  know,  Doris,"  An 
toinette  had  said,  on  one  occasion,  when  they  were  discussing 
the  pros  and  cons,  "so  I  shall  take  a  lively  concern  in  the 
careers  of  all  my  friends — all  that  have  any,  that  is,  for  some 
of  the  girls  really  don't  seem  to  care  for  any  one  thing  more 
than  they  do  for  five  or  six  others,  and  that  always  puzzles 
me,  and  provokes  me  too,  a  little,  for  it  seems  so  absurd." 

"  That  is  just  what  Miss  Anna  says,"  replied  Doris,  "not 
exactly  in  those  words,  perhaps,  but  it's  what  she  means. 
She  is  trying  very  hard  to  make  each  of  us  find  out  what  we 
like  most  to  do,  and  can  do  best,  and  I  could  see,  although 
she  is  so  gentle,  that  she  felt  sort  of  impatient  about  the 
ones  who  did  not  know,  or  could  not  make  up  their 
minds." 

"Can  you  remember  what  any  of  them  chose?"  asked 


58  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Antoinette,  eagerly.  "  I  should  so  like  to  know — that  is,  of 
course,  if  you  are  sure  they  would  not  mind  your  telling." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Doris,  "I  know  they  would  not  mind,  for 
we  have  all  talked  of  it  more  or  less  at  our  homes,  and  before 
a  number  of  people,  and  I  think  I  remember  most,  if  not 
all  of  them,  for  of  course  there  was  a  good  deal  of  argument 
and  discussion." 

"  Well,  then,  begin  with  Hilda  Ufling,  please — she  inter 
ests  me  so.  I  never  feel  sure  that  she  cares  a  pin  for  me, 
but  she  is  so  beautiful  that  I  can't  help  loving  her — it's 
partly  because  she  always  seems  strong,  and  calm,  and  cool, 
and  makes  me  think  of  the  princesses  and  enchanted  people 
in  the  fairy  stories  I  used  to  be  so  fond  of — and  am  yet,  for 
that  matter.  What  did  Hilda  say  she  would  like  best  to 
be?" 

"  She  laughed  a  little,  in  that  still  way  she  has,  and  said 
she  would  like  best  of  all  to  be  a  queen,  but,  as  that  would 
probably  be  out  of  the  question,  she  thought  she  should  be 
an  artist — and  then  Miss  Anna  laughed,  too,  and  said  she 
commended  her  wisdom  in  providing  herself  with  an  alter 
native." 

"That  sounds  like  Miss  Anna — I  shouldn't  like  to  say 
anything  foolish  where  she  could  hear  me.  I  sometimes 
wonder  that  you  all  seem  so  little  afraid  of  her,  when  she  is 
so  clever,  and  says  such  exceedingly  appropriate  things. 
What  did  Christine  Larsen  choose?" 

"  She  said  that,  as  Hilda  had  mentioned  her  first  choice, 
regardless  of  possibility,  she  would  do  the  same ;  that  she 
would  really  prefer  to  be  a  great  military  commander,  with 
a  vast  and  devoted  army  under  her  control,  but  as  this  was 
out  of  the  question,  at  least  for  the  present,  she  was  going 
to  try  to  induce  her  mother  to  give  her  the  entire  charge  of 
the  plantation,  as  soon  as  her  education  was  finished,  and  let 
her  introduce  improvements  and  reforms  as  she  saw  fit.  We 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  59 

all  laughed  more  or  less  at  this — we  couldn't  help  it,  and  she 
did  not  seem  to  mind,  for  she  laughed  too— she's  such  a  lit 
tle  bit  of  a  thing,  you  know,  that  one  or  another  of  us  is 
always  picking  her  up,  and  it  seemed  so  perfectly  ridiculous 
for  her  to  talk  of  taking  the  sole  charge  of  that  immense 
plantation  and  all  those  negroes — you  know  it  is  the  largest 
place  on  the  island,  "Toinette." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  I  don't  feel  so  sure  that  her  idea  is 
absurd,  Doris.  She  has  a  small  body,  but  she  has  the  clear 
est  mind  and  the  most  strength  of  character  of  any  of  us,  it 
seems  to  me,  and  I  believe  she  could  do  it,  if  she  could  be 
induced  to  put  herself  under  your  father,  or  Mr.  Barrett,  for 
a  little  while  first,  and  learn  all  they  could  teach  her.  And 
I  like  her  for  wanting  to  do  it — no  matter  how  good  an  over 
seer  we  have,  I  always  feel  afraid  that  he  is  not  treating  the 
servants  as  kindly  as  they  would  be  treated  if  papa  were  liv 
ing.  What  did  Clara  Barrett  choose  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  wanted  to  be  matron  of  an  orphan  asylum ! 
It  sounds  funny  for  me  to  tell  it,  but  it  didn't  a  bit  as  she 
said  it,  for  she  looked  so  sweet,  and  good,  and  earnest— she's 
a  dear  girl." 

"  Yes,  it  was  just  like  her — and  Jane  ?  " 

"She  said  she  would  like  to  be  a  reformer — to  be  allowed 
to  go  about  making  speeches,  as  if  she  were  a  man,  exposing 
all  sorts  of  wrong  things,  and  helping  to  set  them  right.  I 
couldn't  help  thinking  she  had  begun  to  do  that  already — 
you  ought  to  see  her  black  eyes  snap,  if  anybody  says  any 
thing  mean,  or  gossipy,  or  against  an  absent  person !  But  I 
don't  think  she  realizes  how  much  influence  she  has  in  that 
way." 

"  I  wonder  if  any  of  us  realizes  her  influence,"  said  Antoi 
nette,  thoughtfully.  "  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  greater 
and  farther-reaching  than  we  usually  imagine.  But  what 
did  Grace  and  Sara  choose  ?  " 


60  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"They  wouldn't  choose  at  all,  at  first— they  just  giggled, 
and  said  they  didn't  suppose  they  would  ever  have  to  do 
anything,  that  their  father  gave  them  everything  they 
wanted !  Miss  Anna  was  very  patient,  and  explained  to  them 
that  it  was  better  for  everybody  to  be  doing  some  one  thing 
earnestly,  and  then  they  would  not  be  so  likely  to  be  led  into 
foolishness;  she  didn't  say  it  like  that,  of  course,  but  that 
was  what  she  meant.  She  asked  them  to  try  to  think  if 
there  were  not  someone  thing  that  they  did  best,  and  liked 
best  to  do,  and  at  last  Grace  said  that  she  liked  '  real  well '  to 
trim  bonnets  and  hats,  and  then  Sara  took  courage,  and  said 
she  liked  to  make  dresses.  And  Miss  Anna  did  not  laugh, 
as  we  were  nearly  sure  she  would;  she  said  both  these  occu 
pations  were  very  useful,  and  might  some  day  be  necessary, 
and  that  if  she  were  Grace  or  Sara,  she  would  learn  all  she 
could  about  those  things,  and  try  to  do  them  as  well  as  they 
could  possibly  be  done.  I  am  sure  they  thought  we  would 
laugh  at  them,  and  so  we  should  have  done,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Miss  Anna ;  but  when  she  spoke  so  kindly  and  encour 
agingly,  they  brightened  up  wonderfully,  and  Grace  told 
how  Sara  helped  the  servants  to  cut  out  and  fit  their  nice 
clothes,  especially  for  the  little  children,  and  Sara  flushed 
np,  and  said  Grace  needn't  talk — she  trimmed  all  their  best 
bonnets  for  them,  and  often  gave  them  the  trimmings,  too  ! 
Miss  Anna  looked  lovely,  then,  and  she  said — 

"  '  My  future  queens  and  generals  might  perhaps  fill  in 
the  time,  while  they  are  waiting  for  their  realms  and  armies, 
by  some  such  little  everyday  deeds  of  kindness — it  will  not 
incapacitate  them  for  reigning  and  ruling,  if  the  time  for 
them  to  reign  and  rule  should  ever  come.' 

"  We  all  looked  foolish,  I  think— I  know  I  felt  so— for  it 
turned  out  that  the  ones  we  had  all  felt  so  superior  to,  were 
almost  the  only  ones  who  were  really  doing  anything  for 
anybody  but  themselves." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  61 

"Miss  Anna  is  very  observant,"  said  Antoinette,  smiling; 
"  it  is  quite  probable  she  bad  seen  tbe  little  airs  of  all  you 
gifted  ones  to  the  two  everyday  girls,  and  had  that  talk 
partly  for  your  enlightenment  and  edification.  I  didn't  ask 
what  you  chose,  Doris,  because  I  think  I  can  guess— but  are 
you  really  going  to  choose  it  in  earnest,  dear  ?  I  do  so  hope 
you  are ! " 

Doris  looked  troubled  and  perplexed. 

"I  don't  know,  'Toinette,"  she  said,  slowly.  "I  never 
had  any  difficulty  about  deciding  anything  before.  I  always 
knew  right  away  what  I  wanted,  or  didn't  want,  but  some 
how  I  don't  seem  able  to  make  up  my  mind  about  this.  If 
I  begin  by  thinking  of  the  pleasant  part  of  it — the  being 
able  to  play  at  sight,  and  to  fit  accompaniments  and  a  bass 
to  any  tune,  and  of  all  the  pleasure  I  could  give,  as  well  as 
take,  then  I  am  ready  to  say  I  will  do  it,  no  matter  how 
much  time  and  hard  work  I  have  to  give  to  it.  But  then,  if 
I  begin  the  other  way,  and  remember  all  the  things  your 
uncle  told  me,  and  how  positive  he  was  that,  unless  I  were 
sure  of  persevering  and  really  conquering,  I  had  better  not 
undertake  it,  then  I  am  ready  to  give  it  up,  and  stop  taking 
lessons  altogether ;  for  we  are  quite  agreed — mamma  and 
papa  and  I— that  it  had  better  be  one  thing  or  the  other— I 
am  not  going  to  be  one  of  the  eleven  thousand  virgins  who 
play  ' a  little,'  and  ' not  without  their  notes!'  Do  you  re 
member  that  lovely  Miss  Nelson,  who  was  visiting  the  Bar 
retts,  a  year  ago  ?  There  was  hardly  a  thing  that  anybody 
asked  for  that  she  didn't  know,  and  she  played  and  sang  at 
sight,  and  made  up  accompaniments  as  soon  as  she  had 
heard  an  air  once  or  twice,  and  always  consented  at  once, 
when  anybody  asked  her,  instead  of  making  a  foolish  fuss, 
and  waiting  to  be  coaxed,  the  way  so  many  girls  do.  And  I 
heard  several  people  say  that  she  played  more  delightfully 
for  dancing  than  any  one  they  had  ever  heard.  She  seemed 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  63 

'Toinctte  opened  the  table-drawer,  and  took  out  a  fresh 
copy  of  the  little  book,  saying  brightly — 

"  You  shall  do  better  than  that — I  have  been  waiting  for 
a  chance  to  give  you  one,  for  some  time.  I  always  keep 
several  by  me,  for  I  love  it  so  myself  that  I  want  every  one 
else  to  love  it  too  ;  but  I  like  to  wait  for  a  good  chance  to 
give  it.  I  think  if  one  pokes  such  things  at  people,  they 
sometimes  do  more  harm  than  good." 

"You  never  would,"  said  Doris,  affectionately,  "and  I 
am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  dear.  Will  you  please 
write  my  name  and  yours  in  it,  and  the  date  ?" 

So  Antoinette-  wrote,  in  the  fine  clear  hand  which  Hilda 
always  said  was  "characteristic,"  and  then  it  was  time  for 
Doris  to  go  home.  She  was  rather  silent,  the  rest  of  the 
evening,  and  the  next  day  she  announced  that  her  resolution 
was  taken— she  would  keep  on  with  her  music,  in  thorough 
earnest. 

Her  mother  and  father  were  much  pleased,  and  she  saw 
then  how  disappointed  they  would  have  been,  had  she 
decided  to  give  it  up. 

And  in  answer  to  her  shy  little  note  to  Mr.  Santon,  telling 
him  of  her  decision,  she  received,  in  a  few  weeks,  the 
kindest  and  most  encouraging  of  letters,  and  a  renewed 
invitation  to  write  all  her  perplexities  to  him,  and  allow 
him  to  help  her  in  any  way  that  he  could. 


OHAPTEE    IV. 

THE  surroundings  of  Doris's  home,  and,  indeed,  the 
home  itself,  were  so  entirely  different  from  those 
with  which  most  of  the  readers  of  her  story  are  familiar, 
that  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  describe  them  before  going 
farther.  "  The  great  house,"  as  the  master's  dwelling  was 
usually  called,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  homes  of  the 
overseer  and  negroes,  was  always  at  a  distance  from  "  the 
quarters"  where  the  negroes  lived,  on  some  plantations 
quite  the  distance  of  a  city  square,  on  others,  not  so  far. 
Mr.  Campbell's  front  door  was  reached  by  twelve  or  fifteen 
wide  stone  steps,  which  ended  at  an  uncovered  stone-paved 
piazza,  some  twenty  feet  square.  Opening  upon  this  was  a 
spacious  hall,  with  doors  upon  three  sides,  leading  into 
drawing-room,  music-room,  library,  dining-room,  pantries, 
and  kitchen,  all  conveniently  arranged  for  the  comfort  of 
the  family.  The  basement  was  used  for  store-rooms  of 
various  kinds,  and,  on  a  plantation  such  as  Mr.  Campbell 
owned,  was  none  too  large  for  the  purpose.  There  were 
only  two  stories  above  the  basement,  and  the  second  of  these 
was  divided  into  commodious  sleeping  and  dressing-rooms. 
The  former  contained  little  furniture  beside  the  bed,  in  order 
that  the  air  might  have  free  circulation ;  each  bed  was  draped 
entirely  in  white,  and  from  frames  around  the  tops  of  the 
high  posts  hung  curtains  of  the  very  thin  muslin  called  by 
the  natives  "  leno,"  as  a  protection  not  only  against  mos 
quitoes,  but  against  other  flying  insects,  for  at  some  seasons 
of  the  year  even  cockroaches  take  wings,  and  become  very 
troublesome. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  65 

Some  houses  were  built  with  only  one  story  above  the  base 
ment,  but  in  most  cases  there  were  two. 

At  "the  quarters"  each  house  stood  in  its  own  little 
garden,  and  was  shaded  by  some  of  the  beautiful  trees  which 
grow  in  this  latitude— cocoa-palms,  the  immense  tamarind- 
trees,  the  large,  shady  thibet-trees,  and  many  varieties  of 
fruit-trees. 

Streets,  laid  out  at  right  angles,  divided  the  rows  of 
cottages,  or  rather,  the  rows  of  lots  in  which  the  cottages 
stood,  for  each  one  had  its  apportionment  of  land,  which 
the  owner  cultivated  as  he  pleased,  and  the  diversity  of  taste 
and  judgment  manifested  by  the  different  owners  added 
greatly  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  scene.  At  least  one 
large  fruit-tree  overshadowed  each  door,  and  the  fruit  was 
invariably  gathered  with  care,  and  taken  to  the  nearest  town 
for  sale. 

A  small  outside  kitchen,  unconnected  with  the  house, 
stood  upon  each  plot  of  ground,  that  there  might  be  no 
necessity  for  a  tire  within  doors.  Vegetables,  as  well  as 
fruit,  were  raised  and  sold  by  the  more  thrifty  of  the  negroes, 
and  many  little  comforts,  and  even  luxuries,  were  brought 
back  from  the  market-town ;  gay  articles  of  clothing,  such 
as  were  not  provided  by  their  masters,  furniture  and  adorn 
ments  for  their  houses,  and  articles  of  food  which  did  not 
come  within  their  reach  in  the  plantation  supplies.  Some 
few  among  them,  denying  themselves  everything  but  the 
food  and  clothing  provided  for  them,  and  even  disposing  of 
part  of  this,  as  they  had  opportunity,  set  themselves  steadily 
to  work  to  buy  their  freedom,  and,  when  this  was  accom 
plished,  that  of  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  them. 

But  these  were  exceptional  cases  ;  most  of  them  were  quite 
content  with  their  lot,  and  satisfied  with  their  accommoda 
tions.  Where  the  families  were  large,  two  cottages  were 
given  ;  every  week  rations  were  served  of  Indian  meal,  wheat 


66  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

or  rye  flour,  yams,,  potatoes,  pumpkins,  and  salt  fish  or 
meat.  A  change  of  diet  was  made  each  week,  and  was 
always  welcome.  Two  or  three  suits  of  strong,  comfortable 
clothing  were  given  every  year,  besides  the  Christmas-gifts, 
of  better  quality  and  larger  quantity.  Time  was  allowed 
them  to  take  their  various  wares  to  the  nearest  town  for 
sale,  and  to  make  their  own  purchases,  and  they  had  farther 
opportunities  for  the  latter,  in  the  frequent  visits  of  peddlers, 
generally  women,  with  their  baskets  and  bundles  of  dry- 
goods  and  small  wares.  With  but  few  exceptions,  the 
negroes  were  an  industrious  and  amiable  people,  clean  and 
neat  in  their  persons  and  in  their  homes.  Many  were  intelli 
gent,  and  learned  to  read  whenever  they  had  opportunity. 
Their  attachment  to  their  own  " white  folks"  was  fre 
quently  very  great,  especially  that  of  nurses  for  the  children 
of  whom  they  had  taken  charge.  Doris's  "  Nan  a,"  as  has 
been  said,  had  nursed  Mrs.  Campbell  in  her  infancy,  and 
still  called  her  "Miss  Agnes;"  she  could  be  implicitly 
trusted,  and  her  tender  care  of  the  delicate  little  baby  now 
in  her  charge  made  Mrs.  Campbell  declare,  laughingly,  that 
she  herself  was  jealous — that  Nana  was  bestowing  more  love 
and  solicitude  upon  the  little  Theodora,  than  she  had  given 
to  all  her  other  charges  put  together  ! 

"Now,  Miss  Agnes,  me  chile,"  Nana  would  say,  deprecat- 
ingly,  "you  knows  dat  isn't  de  right  ting  to  say!  You, 
and  you  sistah  and  bruddah  all  strong,  hearty  chillens — 
no  feah  you  not  be  well,  and  little  Missy  all  de  same,  but 
dis  little  picaninny  needs  powahful  sight  moah  tendin'. 
We  raise  her  up,  please  de  good  Lawd,  but  we's  boun'  to 
watch  out  all  time,  and  not  let  her  slip  troo  our  han's." 

And  indeed,  the  baby  owed  health,  if  not  life,  to  this 
tender,  unremitting  care;  for  whenever  Mrs.  Campbell  was 
called  away  by  the  many  duties  of  a  home  such  as  hers, 
Nana's  tireless  arms,  and  gentle,  crooning  voice  were  ready 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  67 

to  soothe  and  comfort  the  often  fretful  child.  Doris  won 
dered  at  the  perfect  patience  with  which  Nana  would  rock 
and  sing,  rock  and  sing,  while  the  baby,  with  wide-open 
eyes,  seemed  more  and  more  resolutely  determined  not  to  go 
to  sleep  ;  seemingly,  Nana  felt  amply  rewarded  by  her 
nursling's  clinging  love ;  the  frail,  white  little  hands  soon 
learned  to  stray  caressingly  over  the  smooth  black  cheeks, 
and  the  baby's  first  audible  laughter  was  when  she  dis 
covered,  and  pulled  heartily,  a  little  tail  of  Nana's  neatly- 
plaited  wool,  which  had  somehow  escaped  from  the  high 
Madras  handkerchief  wound  artistically  about  the  shapely 
head. 

Mrs.  Campbell  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  collecting 
the  negro  children  early  Sunday  morning  on  the  stone 
piazza,  and  holding  a  sort  of  Sunday-school.  Many  of  the 
fathers  and  mothers  came  to  look  and  listen  ;  there  was 
always  quiet  and  good  behavior,  but  the  singing  was  the 
part  of  the  exercises  most  thoroughly  enjoyed.  In  this  the 
older  people  were  invited  to  join,  and  they  did  it  with  a  will. 
In  after-times,  the  sound  of  one  of  the  familiar  hymns  sung 
at  these  gatherings  never  failed  to  bring  tears  to  Doris's 
eyes,  as  the  whole  scene  would  rise  clearly  before  her — the 
rows  of  smiling  black  faces,  the  gay  clothing,  put  on  in 
honor  of  the  day,  her  mother's  sweet,  gentle  face,  intent 
with  the  effort  to  make  the  lesson  clear  to  each  of  her  pupils, 
and  all  around  the  freshness  of  early  day,  and  the  gently- 
waving  trees  and  grass. 

Doris  had  begun  of  late,  with  many  misgivings  as  to  her 
ability  and  fitness,  to  help  her  mother  with  this  self-appointed 
task,  and  she  was  soon  deeply  interested  in  the  work.  She 
had  a  happy  way  with  children,  and  soon  the  little  class  of 
the  youngest  ones,  which  her  mother  had  entrusted  to  her, 
was  enthusiastically  fond  of  her,  and  she  found  no  trouble 
in  teaching  it,  save  the  above-mentioned  doubts  concerning 


68  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

herself.  She  unconsciously  learned  much  in  this  way. 
After  putting  the  meaning  of  the  short  lesson  into 
plain  and  simple  words,  and  asking  questions  which  would 
lead  her  little  pupils  to  see  how  it  might  be  applied  to  their 
daily  living,  in  always  telling  the  truth,  being  perfectly 
honest  and  just  about  the  rights  of  others,  speaking  ill  of  no 
one,  not  being  selfish  and  indolent,  believing  that  their 
friends  and  companions  meant  kindly  by  them  until  it  was 
very  certain  indeed  that  they  did  not,  a  time  of  self-question 
ing  was  sure  to  follow,  and  a  sense  of  humiliation  at  her  own 
short-comings.  She  was  naturally  inclined  to  rather  harsh 
and  hasty  opinions,  and  her  mother  observed,  with  heartfelt 
pleasure,  a  new  gentleness  and  consideration,  not  only  for 
the  rights,  but  for  the  weaknesses  and  faults,  of  others. 
She  was  learning  to  suspend  judgment,  to  be  willing  to 
believe  that  there  might  be  extenuating  facts  and  circum 
stances,  of  which  she  was  ignorant. 

Not  long  after  she  began  teaching  the  children,  the  father 
of  two  whom  she  particularly  fancied,  a  man  named  Glas 
gow,  of  powerful  frame,  and  more  than  ordinary  intelligence 
and  faithfulness,  met  with  a  sad  accident  in  the  sugar-house. 
A  heavy  cask  which  he  was  helping  to  move  broke  loose 
from  the  rope  which  held  it  back,  and  rolled  down  upon  him, 
breaking  one  of  his  legs,  and  injuring  him  internally.  Doc 
tor  Svensen  was  called  immediately,  and  did  everything  in 
his  power  for  the  poor  fellow's  comfort,  for  he  saw  at  once 
that  recovery  was  impossible.  The  immense  frame,  and  full 
health,  before  the  accident,  of  the  patient,  only  served,  now, 
to  increase  his  sufferings ;  but  opiates  finally  stilled  the  pain, 
although  without  rendering  Glasgow  unconscious.  Miss 
Svensen  had  come  with  her  father  when  he  was  first  called, 
as  she  frequently  did  in  cases  of  this  kind,  and  had  shown 
Hagar,  Glasgow's  wife,  how  best  to  care  for  him,  arid  pre 
pare  his  food.  The  poor  woman,  after  the  passionate  burst 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  69 

of  crying  to  which  she  gave  way  when  her  husband  was  first 
brought  home,  went  about  calm  and  tearless,  but  with  a 
look  upon  her  face  which  drew  tears  from  Miss  Christina's 
kind  eyes.  Glasgow  had  shown,  throughout,  the  patient 
courage  which  had  always  been  one  of  his  marked  character 
istics,  restraining  the  groans  which  rose  to  his  lips,  that  he 
might  not  farther  distress  his  wife.  As  soon  as  the  pain  was 
quelled,  a  look  of  peace  and  perfect  resignation  stole  over  his 
face,  and  whenever  he  felt  able  to  speak,  he  tried  gently  to 
comfort  Hagar.  He  had  read  and  studied  a  good  deal,  and 
did  not  use  the  dialect  of  most  of  the  other  negroes;  only  a 
soft  accent  remained,  and  this  was  very  pleasant  to  the  ear. 
He  lingered  for  several  days  before  death  released  him,  and 
in  this  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell  were  with  him  as  often 
as  they  could  possibly  take  the  time.  It  was  not  only  be 
cause  they  knew  how  it  would  gratify  both  him  and  his  wife, 
that  they  went — he  had  been  a  trusted  friend,  rather  than  a 
servant,  and  they  felt  keenly  how  great  his  loss  would  be  to 
them.  Long  ago  he  had  deposited  with  Mr.  Campbell  a  sum 
sufficient  to  buy  the  freedom  of  himself,  his  wife,  and  their 
two  children,  but  his  deep  attachment  to  the  family  and  the 
place  deprived  him  of  all  wish  to  assert  his  freedom.  More 
than  once  Mr.  Campbell  had  suggested  to  him  that  changes 
might  occur — that  in  case  of  his  own  death,  and  that  of  his 
wife,  before  Doris  was  of  age,  unscrupulous  persons  might, 
and  very  probably  would,  take  advantage  of  his  conBdence; 
but  Glasgow  was  obstinate.  The  last  time  it  had  been 
talked  over  between  them,  he  had  answered,  almost  impa 
tiently — 

"  You  made  that  paper,  Master,  and  wrapped  it  up  with 
my  money,  and  that  tells  what  the  money  is  for,  and  if  any 
thing  happens  to  you  and  my  Mistress — God  forbid  it  should, 
while  I  live — Miss  Doris  would  make  the  folks  that  had  to 
see  to  it  do  me  justice,  whether  she  was  of  age  or  not.  I'm 


70  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

not  afraid.  I  mean  no  manner  of  disrespect,  sir,  I  hope  you 
know  that,  but  when  you  talk  this  way,  it  makes  me  feel 
like  you  wanted  to  be  rid  of  me.  And  I  couldn't  live  any 
where  else — I  should  die  before  a  year  was  out,  away  from 
my  own  white  folks.  Please,  please,  Master,  don't  say  any 
thing  more  about  us  being  free ! " 

There  was  such  real  distress  in  the  honest  fellow's  face 
when  he  said  this,  that  Mr.  Campbell  grasped  his  hand,  and 
promised  him  not  to  mention  the  subject  again,  unless  it  be 
came  really  necessary,  and  Glasgow  went  off  quite  happy, 
and  sang  about  his  work,  that  day,  even  more  than  usual. 

This  was  only  a  few  weeks  before  the  accident,  and  Mr. 
Campbell  felt  constrained  to  ascertain  Glasgow's  last  wishes 
about  his  wife  and  children.  The  latter  were  Cudjoe,  a  boy 
of  fifteen,  and  Parecn,  a  bright  little  girl  of  twelve.  There 
had  been  several  other  children,  who  had  died  when  very 
yonng,  and  upon  the  two  that  remained  the  father's  love  and 
hopes  were  greatly  set. 

It  was  just  before  sunset  on  the  day  after  Glasgow's  hurt, 
and  Mr.  Campbell,  seated  near  the  bed,  took  in  his  own  the 
large,  strong-looking  hand,  cold  and  weak  now,  which  lay 
outside  the  neat  white  coverlet,  and  said  gently — 

"  I  don't  wish  to  distress  you,  my  poor  boy,  but  I  must 
know,  while  you  are  still  able  to  tell  me,  what  you  wish  done 
about  Hagar  and  Cudjoe  and  Pareen,  after  you  are  gone. 
Can  you  tell  me  now  ?  " 

The  negro  feebly  pressed  his  master's  hand,  and  looked 
into  his  face  with  eyes  full  of  loving  trust. 

"I  was  hoping,  Master,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  if  Cudjoe 
grew  up  likely  and  honest  and  sober,  the  way  I've  tried  to 
teach  him,  that  may-be  you'd  put  him  in  my  place,  when  I 
was  gone — I  didn't  think  I'd  go  so  soon.  And  dear  little 
Missy  promised  Hagar,  many  a  time,  that  if  her  mamma  was 
willing,  she  would  take  Pareen  for  her  own  maid,  and  have 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  71 

her  taught  to  sew,  and  be  nice  and  handy  about  the  house. 
That's  what  I'd  like  best,  Master,  if  you  see  fit— not  other- 
ways." 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  promptly;  "I have 
noticed  both  Cudjoe  and  Pareen  a  good  deal,  and  have  never 
seen  anything  to  find  fault  with  in  either  of  them.  As  soon 
as  Cudjoe  seems  old  enough  to  take  your  place,  he  shall  do 
so,  and  Pareen  shall  come  into  the  great  house  whenever  her 
mother  is  willing  to  spare  her.  But  I  think  it  will  be  only 
right  to  let  them  know  that  they  are  able  to  buy  their  free 
dom,  if  they  should  wish  to  do  so,  and  also  something  else, 
which  I  only  learned  yesterday.  There  is  a  talk  of  the  Gov 
ernment  freeing  all  the  slaves  by  degrees,  that  is,  proclaim 
ing  all  free  at  twenty-one  years  of  age,  who  shall  be  born 
after  a  certain  date,  and  all  who  are  slaves  now,  free  after  a 
term  of  years  ;  if  this  goes  into  effect,  as  many  of  us— most 
of  us,  in  fact— hope  that  it  will,  Cudjoe  and  Pareen  would 
only  have  to  be  patient  for  a  few  years,  and  then  they  would 
have  not  only  their  freedom,  but  a  good  sum  on  which  to 
support  their  mother  and  themselves  until  they  could  find 
profitable  employment." 

"I'd  rather  Master  didn't  talk  any  of  that  to  them, 
please,"  said  Glasgow,  uneasily;  "if  they've  got  to  be  free, 
and  leave  their  home,  they'll  be  all  the  better  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves  for  learning  to  be  Master's  good  servants 
first.  Please  don't  tell  them  anything  till  the  time  comes 
when  you  must,  nor  Hagar  neither." 

"But  surely  they  know  that  you  have  their  purchase- 
money  laid  safely  away!"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  in  astonish 
ment. 

"No  sir,  they  don't  know  it,"  said  Glasgow,  placidly; 
"Hagar's  a  good  woman,"  he  added,  "and  she's  been  a  good 
wife  to  me,  but  all  women  are  foolish,  Master,  and  I  know 
very  well,  if  I  told  her,  there'd  be  some  of  her  sulky  times 


72  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

when  she'd  worry  at  me  about  it.  She'd  only  be  trouble 
some  if  you  told  her,  sir,  and  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you  was, 
if  you'd  be  willing  to  take  her  into  the  great  house,  when 
you  take  the  children;  she's  a  right  smart  washer  and 
ironer,  and  I  heard  Naomi  saying  she'd  like  to  have  another 
girl  to  help  in  the  laundry.  You  see,  it  would  be  kind  of 
lonesome  for  her  here,  without  the  children,  after  I'm 
gone." 

"It  would,  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Campbell,  "and  I  know 
your  mistress  will  gladly  take  Hagar  into  the  house— she  has 
often  praised  her  work." 

There  was  no  reply,  save  the  happy  and  satisfied  ex 
pression  of  Glasgow's  face.  He  had  spoken  very  slowly,  and 
with  some  difficulty,  and  he  seemed  a  good  deal  exhausted. 

Mr.  Campbell  gave  him  some  cordial,  and  then  sat 
silently  by  the  bed  until  he  found  the  poor  fellow  was  sleep 
ing,  when  he  softly  withdrew,  stopping  on  his  way  out  to 
say  a  comforting  word  to  Hagar,  who  was  sitting  with  her 
face  hidden  in  her  hands  on  the  bench  just  outside  the  front 
door. 

She  rose  and  stole  into  the  room,  and  Mr.  Campbell  re 
turned  home ;  he  went  once  more,  at  bed-time,  to  Glasgow's 
cottage,  but  the  sufferer  was  still  dozing,  with  brief  waking 
intervals,  and  Mr.  Campbell  thought  it  best  not  to  disturb 
him. 

It  was  just  after  dark  the  next  evening  that  Cudjoe  came 
to  "  the  great  house,"  and  asked  for  Doris.  The  family  were 
all  seated  on  the  stone  piazza,  and  Doris  rose  hastily  and 
went  down  the  steps. 

"Please,  Missy,"  said  the  boy,  in  trembling  tones, 
"Daddy  say.  could  he  speak  wid  little  Missy  befo'  he  die — if 
Missy  be  so  good." 

"Is  he  worse  ?"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  as  he  joined  Doris  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  73 

"He  turn  weak,  sudden-like,"  replied  Cud  joe ;  "  Doctor 
dere,  and  he  say " 

The  poor  fellow  began  to  sob,  unable  to  say  more.  Both 
he  and  Pareen  were  devotedly  fond  of  their  father. 

Mrs.  Campbell  had  followed  her  husband. 

"  Darling,  do  you  feel  able  to  do  as  Glasgow  wishes  ?  "  she 
asked,  throwing  her  arm  about  Doris ;  "  your  father  and  I 
will  go  with  you,  and  there  is  nothing  painful  for  you  to  see 
in  the  death  of  a  good  man. " 

"I  will  go,  mamma — of  course  I  will  go,  if  poor  Glasgow 
wants  to  see  me,"  replied  Doris,  quietly,  but  her  voice  was 
very  low,  her  mother  could  feel  that  she  was  trembling,  and 
see,  even  by  the  faint  moonlight,  that  she  was  very  pale. 
Mrs.  Campbell,  seeing  how  deeply  agitated  her  child  was, 
hesitated,  thinking  it  almost  better  to  forbid  her  going;  but 
Doris  herself  led  the  way,  walking  so  rapidly  that  they  could 
scarcely  keep  pace  with  her,  and  they  reached  the  cottage  in 
a  few  minutes.  Doris  had  never  been  brought  face  to  face 
with  death  before,  and  her  heart  sank  indescribably  as  she 
reached  the  door,  but  she  did  not  allow  herself  to  hesitate, 
and  as  soon  as  she  found  herself  in  Glasgow's  presence,  she 
grew  strangely  calm.  A  great  change  had  fallen  upon  him  ; 
his  face  looked  pinched  and  worn,  and  of  that  ashy  hue 
which  even  the  darkest  skin  will  show  at  such  a  time.  But 
he  smiled  feebly,  and  groped  for  her  hand,  when  she  spoke 
to  him,  saying  brokenly: 

"  I  wanted  to  thank  my  little  Miss  for  all  her  goodness  to 
me  and  my  folks,  and  specially  for  what  she's  said  to  us  on 
Sunday.  It's  all  God's  truth,  dear  little  Missy,  and  remember 
what  Glasgow  tells  you  now,  the  last  time  he  speaks  to  you 
here  on  this  earth — there's  nobody  but  God  when  we  come 
to  the  last,  and  if  we've  held  His  hand  as  we  walked,  He 
will  hold  ours  when  we're  past  walking.  Little  Missy  will 
try  to  remember  that,  whatever  happens  to  her  ?  " 
4. 


74  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  I  will,  dear  Glasgow,"  said  Doris,  in  clear,  solemn  tones. 
He  feebly  pressed  her  hand,  and  then  old  Saul,  a  highly- 
respected  "class-leader"  among  the  negroes,  fell  on  his 
knees,  and  uttered  a  brief,  heartfelt  prayer,  commending  the 
dying  man  to  his  Maker. 

It  was  a  deeply-solemn  scene,  and  one  which  Doris  never 
forgot.  The  reverent  silence  in  the  room,  as  the  prayer 
ended,  seemed  to  make  more  audible  than  usual  the  soft 
sounds  of  wind  and  waves,  and  the  rustling  of  the  trees.  Many 
dark  faces  were  clustered  about  the  doors  and  windows,  for 
Glasgow  had  been  a  power  among  his  people,  and  no  death 
could  have  produced  such  widespread  sorrow  and  concern. 
He  lay  quietly,  with  ever-shortening  breath.  Dr.  Svensen, 
dreading  the  struggle  which  his  mighty  frame  would  under 
go,  had  administered  an  anodyne  freely,  and  he  was  thus 
saved  nearly  all  physical  distress.  He  had  taken  leave  of  his 
wife  and  children  before  Doris  arrived,  and  so,  quietly,  at 
peace  with  his  Father,  and  with  all  his  little  world,  he  slept 
his  life  away.  The  negroes  were  awed  into  silence,  so  long 
as  he  continued  to  breathe,  but  as  soon  as  Dr.  Svensen  said 
softly,  "  It  is  over — he  will  suffer  no  more  ! "  a  wail  broke 
from  the  lips  of  his  kneeling  wife  and  children,  and  was 
taken  up  on  all  sides,  until  the  air  was  filled  with  sounds  of 
lamentation.  The  tuneful,  flexible  voices  of  the  negroes 
gave  to  this  cry  an  indescribably  desolate,  eerie  sound,  and 
Mr.  Campbell,  apprehensive  of  the  effect  upon  Doris's  already 
over- wrought  nerves,  hurried  his  wife  and  child  away. 

Doris  slept  but  little  that  night.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  was  realizing  the  worthlessncss  of  everything  that 
the  world  holds  most  valuable,  and  the  true  worth  of  the 
"  peace  that  passeth  understanding,"  and  she  resolved,  in 
humble  faith  and  dependence,  to  "hold  His  hand"  for  the 
rest  of  her  life. 

The  arrangements  for  Glasgow's  funeral  were,  necessarily, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  75 

made  with  a  promptness  which  would  seem  like  shocking 
haste  to  inhabitants  of  a  colder  climate.  The  funeral  is 
never  delayed  longer  than  till  twenty-four  hours  after  death, 
and,  among  the  negroes,  certain  customs  prevailed  at  this 
time,  which  were  freely  permitted,  as  they  led  to  no  harm. 
A  "wake"  was  held  during  the  entire  night,  previous  to  the 
funeral;  the  class-leaders,  from  time  to  time,  raising  hymns 
in  which  all  the  company  joined.  In  the  pauses  of  the  sing 
ing,  little  groups  would  form,  with  heads  almost  touching, 
in  their  eagerness  to  tell  and  hear,  and  grewsome  stories  of 
weir-wolves,  bewitchment,  and  similar  blood-curdling  themes, 
would  be  told  in  low,  awe-stricken  voices,  and  listened  to 
with  perfect  faith,  and  no  little  terror. 

The  supper,  which  was  held  in  the  course  of  the  night, 
was  always  furnished  from  "  the  great  house,"  and  consisted, 
usually,  of  one  or  two  boiled  hams,  roasted  pig  or  fowls, 
bread,  crackers,  coffee,  lemonade,  and  a  small  glass  of  spirits 
for  each  of  the  company — much  liquor,  on  these  occasions, 
being  strictly  prohibited,  as  it  would  have  led  to  disorder  or 
riot.  As  it  was,  the  proceedings  were  generally  conducted 
with  sobriety  and  decorum,  and  not  a  little  ceremony, 
although  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  they  were  as  keenly  en 
joyed  as  funerals  are,  by  many  people,  both  white  and  black, 
at  the  present  day. 

When  the  ceremonies  were  concluded,  the  body — borne  on 
the  shoulders  of  two  men,  if  the  burial-ground  were  near, 
and  on  an  open  frame  on  wheels,  if  it  were  far, — was  con 
veyed  to  the  graveyard,  escorted  by  a  solemn  procession  of 
negroes.  Arrived  at  the  grave,  the  final  services  were  con 
ducted  by  a  clergyman,  if  one  could  be  secured  at  such 
necessarily  short  notice,  and,  if  this  were  impossible,  by  the 
church  clerk,  or,  as  the  negroes  called  him  "the  Teacher." 
Several  more  hymns  were  always  sung  at  the  grave,  and  the 
minister  or  "  teacher"  was  expected  to  make  a  short  address. 


76  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Mr.  Campbell  had  sent  a  messenger  for  Mr.  Weber,  the  old 
clergyman  of  the  parish-church,  as  soon  as  the  doctor  had  pro 
nounced  Glasgow  incurable,  for  he  knew  how  much  it  would 
comfort  Hagar  to  have  the  minister  instead  of  the  "teacher" 
to  perform  the  service.  Mr.  Weber  had  arrived  just  after 
Glasgow's  death,  and  his  gentle  words  of  consolation  had 
done  more  to  tranquilize  Hagar  than  all  that  her  friends  and 
neighbors  had  said.  He  made  an  earnest  and  feeling  address 
at  the  grave,  exhorting  the  people  to  profit  by  the  example 
of  their  dead  brother's  upright  and  useful  life,  that  they 
might  die  in  the  same  blessed  assurance  of  hope  that  had 
sustained  him. 

"For  you  know,"  he  added,  "that  while  we  are  not  saved 
by  anything  that  we  can  do  of  ourselves,  we  are  yet  per 
mitted  to  honor  our  heavenly  Master  by  living  as  He  would 
have  us  live,  and  this,  we  know,  Glasgow  earnestly  and  con 
sistently  tried  to  do." 

It  was  many  days  before  the  sounds  of  singing  and  laughter 
once  more  prevailed  at  the  quarters,  but  the  negroes  are  a 
light-hearted  and  mercurial  people,  and  in  a  few  weeks  his 
death  seemed  almost  forgotten  by  the  majority.  His  widow 
and  children,  and  a  few  of  his  near  relations  and  friends, 
still  mourned  him,  and  to  Mr.  Campbell  his  loss  was  irrepar 
able. 

When  Mr.  Campbell  first  entered  upon  the  possession  of 
the  estate,  he  had  allowed  the  overseer  then  in  office  to  con 
tinue  there,  for  he  had  no  practical  knowledge  of  the  man 
agement,  and  he  thought  it  better  not  to  make  any  changes 
until  he  had  made  his  own  observations  and  formed  his  own 
conclusions.  He  was  not  long  in  arriving  at  the  belief  that, 
if  there  must  be  a  middle-man  between  master  and  servants, 
it  had  better  be  one  of  the  latter,  and  he  had  soon  selected 
Glasgow  for  the  position.  He  had  discovered  that  the  over 
seer's  zeal  concerning  the  profitableness  of  the  estate  was  too 


•  DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  77 

apt  to  obscure  whatever  kind  feeling  he  had  for  the  servants, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion,  when  Mr.  Campbell  had 
intervened  on  behalf  of  the  weak  or  ailing,  and  insisted  upon 
having  his  wishes  obeyed,  the  overseer  had  manifested  his 
displeasure  in  no  uncertain  manner,  and  when,  at  the  expi 
ration  of  the  first  year,  he  had  been  given  an  equivalent  in 
wages,  in  lieu  of  the  usual  notice,  and  had  learned  the  plan 
upon  which  Mr.  Campbell  intended  in  future  to  conduct  the 
estate,  he  had  predicted  near  and  certain  ruin ;  but  his  pre 
diction  had  not  been  fulfilled,  nor  did  it  seem  at  all  likely  to 
be.  The  receipts,  in  money,  were  a  trifle  less,  perhaps,  but 
even  from  a  strictly  utilitarian  point  of  view,  Mr.  Campbell's 
method  worked  best.  His  people  were  devotedly  attached  to 
him,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  when  labor  in  over- 
hours  was  of  great  value  to  the  saving  of  the  crops,  or  in 
keeping  an  engagement,  there  had  been  no  lack  of  cheerful 
volunteers,  while  the  house-service  was  far  more  satisfactory 
and  faithful  than  that  upon  the  majority  of  the  other  plan 
tations.  It  was  her  observation  of  all  this  which  had  led 
Christine  Larsen  to  form  wishes  and  plans  concerning  her 
mother's  estate  which  seemed  wildly  ambitious  to  most  of 
her  friends.  But  to  the  opinions  of  all  but  a  very  few  she 
was,  perhaps,  rather  too  indifferent,  and  she  had  already  be 
gun  quietly  to  win  over  her  mother  to  her  plans,  with  a  good 
prospect  of  success.  Whether  or  not  the  success  would  con 
tinue,  when  it  came  to  the  carrying  out  of  her  designs,  was 
an  important  question  which  only  time  could  solve. 

From  the  time  of  his  father's  death,  Cudjoe  seemed  to  be 
come  daily  more  manly  and  industrious,  and  worthy  to  be 
depended  upon.  Mr.  Campbell  had  told  him  of  Glasgow's 
wish,  and  that,  unless  he  showed  himself  unworthy  of  the 
position,  he  should  succeed  his  father  as  soon  as  he  should  be 
old  enough.  The  boy  was  already  unusually  tall  and  strong 
for  his  age,  with  a  grave,  earnest  face  and  manner ;  he  had 


78  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

been  Glasgow's  constant  companion,  and  it  now  seemed  as  if 
it  would  not  be  very  long  before  lie  could  fill  the  place  left 
vacant  by  the  latter's  death,  for  Mr.  Campbell,  who  in  the 
meantime  devoted  several  hours  each  day,  beside  the  time 
formerly  occupied  by  his  inspections,  to  the  management  of 
the  estate,  kept  the  boy  with  him,  and  encouraged  him  to 
ask  questions  about  all  that  he  did  not  fully  understand. 
Cudjoe  had  always  loved  his  master,  but  his  father  had  of 
course  stood  first  with  him  ;  now,  however,  his  love  for  Mr. 
Campbell  developed  into  a  sort  of  mute  adoration,  and  no 
service  could  have  been  exacted  of  him  which  he  would  not 
willingly  have  tried  to  perform.  Mr.  Campbell  had  been  a 
little  afraid  that  the  nomination  of  so  young  a  person  as 
Cudjoe  as  Glasgow's  successor  would  make  some  little  jeal 
ousy  and  ill-feeling,  and  very  probably  it  would  have  done  so 
but  for  a  counteracting  agency  upon  which  no  one  could 
have  calculated.  Among  the  older  negroes  were  three  or 
four  native  Africans,  the  oldest  of  these  being  "Captain 
Jack,"  as  he  was  universally  called  by  all  the  other  servants. 
He  was  a  very  old  man,  evidently,  but  of  his  exact  age  no 
one,  not  excepting  himself,  had  any  knowledge.  He  was  in 
tensely  black,  but  tall  and  finely-formed,  and  his  head  was 
crowned  with  an  immense  crop  of  snow-white  wool,  of  which 
he  was  childishly  vain.  He  and  his  wife  occupied  one  of  the 
best  cottages  on  the  estate,  and  the  cultivation  of  his  piece 
of  ground  Was  done  entirely  by  the  volunteer  work  of  his 
fellow-servants,  and  much  better  done,  too,  than  some  of 
their  own.  He  claimed  to  have  been  a  king  in  his  native 
country,  although,  even  by  his  own  showing,  he  must  have 
been  an  extraordinarily  young  one  when  a  hostile  monarch 
captured  him,  and  sold  him  into  captivity.  It  was  impossi 
ble  now  to  tell  whether  he  had,  in  the  first  instance,  believed 
this  story,  or  invented  it  for  the  sake  of  the  authority  and 
consideration  he  could  gain  by  it,  but  there  was  no  doubt 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  79 

whatever  that  he  thoroughly  believed  it  now,  and  had  done 
so  for  many  years,  and  one  of  the  delights  of  Doris's  early 
childhood  had  been  the  listening  to  his  endless  stones  of  the 
time  when  he  "was  a  king  in  his  own  country."  Indeed, 
she  sometimes  diverted  herself  in  this  manner,  even  yet,  and 
regretted  that  she  could  no  longer  hear  with  unquestioning 
faith  and  delightful  wonder  the  wild  improbabilities,  and 
even  impossibilities,  which  the  ex-monarch  so  glibly  related. 
"  Captain  Jack"  was  held  in  such  veneration  by  the  other 
negroes,  that  it  was  well  for  Mr.  Campbell's  authority  that 
his  royal  highness  was  a  vigorous  partisan  of  law  and  order. 
He  had  been  rather,  cruelly  treated  in  his  early  youth,  and 
Mr.  Campbell's  kindness  had  made  a  lasting  impression  on 
him.  He  had  been  on  the  retired  list  for  several  years,  and 
the  vigorous  language  with  which  he  endeavored  to  keep  the 
other  negroes  up  to  the  mark  was  a  constant  source  of  amuse 
ment  to  his  master.  His  legs  were  badly  crippled  with 
rheumatism,  and  he  always  used  a  long,  thick  staff  to  assist 
him  in  walking,  and  this  weapon  was  regarded  by  the  "  pic 
a-ninnies"  with  a  pious  and  well-founded  awe.  He  had 
grieved  sincerely  over  the  death  of  Glasgow,  and  with  good 
reason,  for  the  latter  had  given  him  more  frequent  and 
efficient  help  than  he  had  received  from  any  of  the  others, 
and  on  the  night  of  the  wake,  after  muttering  and  groaning 
to  himself  for  a  long  while,  he  had  suddenly  said — 

"  When  king  die,  in  country  we  all  belong,  den  king's 
olest  son,  he  king  next." 

Here  he  paused  for  several  minutes,  looking  around  the 
room,  until  his  eyes  rested  upon  Cudjoe,  when  he  resumed — 

"Glasgow  king  heah,  he  gone^dead  ;  Cudjoe  come  next ; 
nobody  bettah  try  take  Cudjoe's  place.  You  all  heah  me  ?  " 
And  tottering  to  Cudjoe's  side,  he  laid  his  trembling  hands 
on  the  lad's  head,  saying  :  "  De  good  Lawd  bress  Glasgow's 
son,  and  make  him  like  he  fadah  ! " 


80  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

The  impression  made  upon  the  superstitious  and  excitable 
negroes  by  this  scene  was  indescribable;  they  all  believed 
"Captain  Jack"  to  have  been  inspired,  and  nothing  would 
have  induced  any  one  of  the  men  to  usurp,  as  he  would  have 
called  it,  Glasgow's  vacant  place.  Mr.  Campbell  knew  noth 
ing  of  this  until  weeks  afterward,  when  Pareen  shyly  told  it 
to  Doris,  who  in  turn  told  her  father  and  mother,  and  he 
then  understood  the  entire  readiness  with  which  men  as  old 
as  Glasgow,  and  in  some  respects  well  calculated  to  fill  his 
place,  had  submitted  to  the  prospect  of  seeing  Cudjoe  suc 
ceed  his  father.  Many  of  the  planters  availed  themselves  of 
the  superstitions  of  the  negroes,  both  for  amusement  and 
profit;  but  this  Mr.  Campbell  would  never  do,  trying,  on  the 
contrary,  to  enlighten  their  minds  and  convince  them  of  the 
folly  of  many  of  their  beliefs.  In  this  he  met  with  very 
little  success ;  the  ideas  which  he  strove  to  uproot  had  taken 
such  deep  hold,  that  nothing  he  could  say  on  the  subject 
had  any  real  or  lasting  effect,  and  he  was  sometimes  horri 
fied,  and  very  frequently  amused,  by  incidental  discoveries 
of  their  curious  beliefs,  and  still  more  curious  customs.  In 
this  instance,  however,  the  result  was  good. 


CHAPTER    Y. 

rTlHEKE  was  a  gentle  stir  of  excitement  and  pleasant 
-L  expectancy,  which  pervaded  alike  the  great  house  and 
the  quarters.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell  held  whispered  con 
ferences  with  each  other,  and,  separately,  with  Doris.  Doris 
had  fallen  into  a  curious  habit  of  burying  her  work  in  her 
apron  whenever  the  door  was  suddenly  opened,  and  Mr. 
Campbell  had  announced  that,  save  only  in  case  of  fire  in  the 
house,  no  one  was  to  invade  the  old-fashioned  "secretary" 
which  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  library ;  Mrs.  Campbell 
had  followed  suit  with  a  similar  announcement  concerning 
her  wardrobe,  upon  which  Doris  had  said,  triumphantly, 
that  anybody  could  do  anything  they  liked  in  her  room, 
since  Gabriel  had  mended  the  lock  on  her  closet-door !  Sev 
eral  large  and  curiously  shapeless  parcels  had  already  arrived 
from  England  and  "the  States";  Mrs.  Campbell's  mother 
lived  in  the  former,  and  Mr.  Campbell's  two  unmarried  sis 
ters  in  the  latter.  But  these  parcels  had  vanished,  and  been 
no  more  seen,  immediately  upon  their  arrival.  The  servants 
wcro  in  a  delightfully  industrious  and  obliging  frame  of 
mind.  Sullcnness  and  dilatoriness  were  unknown  quanti 
ties,  and  orders  were  obeyed,  and  requests  fulfilled,  almost 
before  they  were  uttered.  You  will  perhaps  have  imagined 
the  cause  of  this  mild  and  pleasing  commotion ;  Christmas 
was  very  near  at  hand ! 

A  large  box  had  been  shipped  to  Leonard,  weeks  ago,  and 
he  had  been  assured  that  it  was  not  half  large  enough  to 
hold  the  regrets  of  his  family  that  he  could  not  keep  the  fes 
tival  with  them ;  and  one  of  the  mysterious  parcels  was 


82  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

addressed  to  Mr.  Campbell  in  his  bold,  boyish  handwriting. 
A  special  lot  of  dry  goods,  groceries,  and  miscellaneous  arti 
cles  of  almost  every  description  was  stored  away  in  one  of 
the  basement-rooms,  where  no  other  stores  were  kept,  and 
many  longing  glances  were  directed  to  that  door,  as  the  ser 
vants  passed  it  on  various  errands  about  the  house. 

To  those  of  you  who  always  associate  Christmas- time  with 
frost  and  snow,  with  blazing  Christmas  fires  and  the  cosiness 
of  household  light  and  warmth,  made  cosier  by  contrast  with 
the  chilly  outside  world,  it  would  have  been  almost  impos 
sible  to  realize  the  nearness  of  tho  "blest  day."  For  there 
was  a  springtime  mildness  in  the  air ;  flowers  and  fruit  gave 
forth  a  summertime  fragrance,  and  the  little  island  seemed 
made  up  of  a  succession  of  blooming  gardens.  Christmas- 
wreaths  here  might  be  twined  from  the  freshest  and  fairest 
flowers,  instead  of  from  the  hardy  evergreens,  and  a  Christ 
mas  tree  might  be  decorated  in  the  open  air,  its  own  fair 
fruit  being  left  to  help  the  decoration. 

But  the  spirit  of  Christmas  flourishes  in  all  climates,  and 
fills  the  fragrant  air  of  the  tropics,  as  well  as  the  frozen 
winds  of  the  north.  Mrs.  Campbell  had  received  a  book  of 
Christmas  carols,  a  week  or  two  ago,  from  her  mother — carols 
so  old  that  they  had  become  new  again — and  of  several  of 
these  the  music  was  simple  enough  to  be  taught  to  the  chil 
dren  ;  so,  Doris  assisting  and  playing  the  accompaniments, 
the  choir  had  been  diligently  rehearsing,  Almost  all  negroes 
have  a  great  love  for  music,  and  most  of  them  have  good 
voices,  and  Doris  was  brimming  over  with  delight,  after  a 
few  practisings  had  been  held,  with  the  manner  in  which  her 
pupils  acquitted  themselves.  They  evidently  enjoyed  the 
performance  quite  as  much  as  she  did,  and  the  Christmas 
feeling  was  heightened  by  the  sound,  from  all  parts  of  the 
quarters  and  many  parts  of  the  great  house,  of  clear,  sweet 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  83 

little  childish  voices  singing  scraps  of  carols  and  Christmas 
hymns. 

It  had  been  some  years  since  Doris  had  been  considered 
young  enough  to  have  a  Christmas-tree;  she, had,  instead, 
helped  her  mother  and  father  to  decorate  one  for  the  little 
negroes,  and  she  considered  their  introduction  to  this  tree, 
and  the  distribution  of  the  gifts  upon  it,  decidedly  the  best 
part  of  the  Christmas  fun.  This  year  she  amused  her 
mother  by  asking,  earnestly — 

"  Mamma,  don't  you  think  it  would  be  worth  while  to  make 
a  little  tree  for  Theo,  with  plenty  of  pretty,  shiny  things 
on  it,  and  to  light  the  candles  just  at  dark  ?  You  know  she 
always  laughs  and  crows  so  when  the  candles  are  lighted  ! " 

Now  the  baby  at  that  time  was  not  quite  six  months  old, 
but  Mrs.  Campbell  saw  that,  whatever  might  be  the  effect 
upon  Miss  Theo's  perceptions,  Doris  would  derive  great 
delight  in  preparing  the  little  tree,  so  she  said,  kindly,  "I 
daresay  she  would  notice  it,  dear,  and  at  any  rate  it  will  be  a 
pleasant  thing  for  her  to  hear  of,  when  she  is  old  enough  to 
understand  about  it ;  so  if  I  were  you,  I  would  do  it — you 
know  I  have  a  boxful  of  decorations  saved  from  the  last  tree 
that  we  dressed  for  you  and  Leonard,  and  there  are  several 
packages  of  small  candles  more  than  we  shall  need  for  the 
big  tree.  And  the  little  Christmas  angel  is  very  carefully 
put  away,  and  can  be  hung  above  the  tree,  as  it  used  to  be 
-for  yours." 

Doris  was  in  raptures.  She  selected  her  tree  immediately, 
and  Cudjoe,  under  her  direction,  made  a  neat  green  box  in 
which  to  plant  it.  The  supply  of  decorations  was  found  to 
be  abundant,  but  some  of  the  "shiny  things"  had  become 
tarnished,  and  these  Mr.  Campbell  regilded.  Altogether, 
Doris  thought,  the  Christmas  promised  to  be  an  unusually 
brilliant  one,  with  the  single  drawback  of  Leonard's  absence. 
In  these  days  of  "rapid  transit"  it  is  almost  impossible  to 


84  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

realize  the  difficulties  and  detentions  which  travelers  encoun 
tered  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,  but  one  might  approximate  the 
difference  between  now  and  then,  by  substituting  days  for 
hours,  weeks  for  days,  and  months  for  weeks. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell  had  been  greatly  tempted  to  bring 
their  boy  home  for  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  had  privately 
discussed  possibilities,  not  wishing  to  add  disappointment 
to  Doris's  regret,  but  they  had  finally  concluded  that  they 
would  not  be  justified  in  allowing  him  to  lose  at  least  four  or 
five  weeks  of  school-time,  in  an  important  part  of  the  term, 
and  when  his  examination  for  college  was  so  soon  to  take 
place ;  and  much  as  he  longed  for  them  all,  at  this  time,  so 
full  of  tender  associations,  he  was  too  brave  and  sensible  to 
make  either  them  or  himself  miserable  about  it.  His  letters 
were  always  bright  and  cheery  ;  he  had  a  keen  sense  of  the 
ludicrous,  and  a  happy  disposition,  prone  to  make  the  best 
of  the  worst  bargains,  and  if  there  were  any  causes  of  com 
plaint  in  his  school-life,  his  family  was  kept  in  blissful  igno 
rance  of  them.  "  I  wonder  how  it  is,  mamma,"  said  Doris 
once,  as  she  finished  one  of  his  lively  letters,  "that  Leonard 
meets  so  many  pleasant  people,  and  has  such  good  times 
wherever  he  goes.  He  doesn't  seem  to  have  had  a  single 
disagreeable  experience  since  he  went  to  America,  judging 
by  his  letters,  and  I  used  to  think  a  boarding-school  must  be 
one  of  the  most  dreadful  places  in  the  world— only  just  not 
quite  so  bad  as  a  prison." 

"  I  think,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Campbell,  "  that  Leonard 
has  the  '  key  of  the  kingdom  of  happiness '  in  his  own  posses 
sion.  If  you  will  notice  how  it  is  with  most  of  the  people 
you  know,  you  will  find  that  their  outside  life  has  very  little 
to  do  with  their  happiness  and  discontent.  Leonard  would 
see  the  bright  side,  even  of  a  life  in  jail." 

"Oh,  mamma!  as  if  there  could  be  a  bright  side  to  a  life 
in  jail!" 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  85 

"There  is  a  bright  side  to  everything,  darling,  if  we  have 
hut  the  grace  to  see  it — and  we  all  can  have  the  grace,  if  we 
seek  it  in  the  right  way." 

"Leonard's  letters  are  the  bright  side,  then,  I  suppose, 
mamma,  to  his  absence,  for  I  can't  see  any  other,"  said 
Doris,  "or — yes,  there  is  another;  I  think  we  don't  know, 
sometimes,  how  to  fully  appreciate  people,  until  we  are 
separated  from  them.  Before  Leonard  went  away,  although 
I  was  very  fond  of  him,  of  course,  I  used  to  think  there  were 
plenty  of  boys  in  the  world  as  good  as  he  was,  and  now  I 
don't  think  there  is  one!" 

"  There  is  yet  another,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell.  "  The  joy  of 
meeting ;  I  am  sure  nearly  every  one  has  felt,  after  a  long 
separation,  that  this  joy  nearly  atones  for  the  pain  of  parting. 
i  Sweet  is  pleasure  after  pain,'  you  know.  To  a  little  body  so 
busy  as  you  always  are,  the  six  months  which  must  pass  before 
we  see  our  boy  again,  will  not  seem  long.  It  is  only  with  idle 
people  that  time  really  drags,  and  refuses  to  'move  on.'" 

"Mamma,  I  have  been  thinking — lam  pretty  busy,  but 
we  have  been  talking  at  school,  sometimes  with  Miss  Anna, 
and  sometimes  by  ourselves,  and  yesterday  Christine  pro 
posed  that  we  should  begin  to  teach  the  smaller  children  of 
all  our  servants,  who  would  come,  for  an  hour  a  day,  if  our 
mothers  and  fathers  should  be  willing,  and  then,  if  we  suc 
ceeded  in  that,  we  might  let  the  larger  ones  come,  and  next 
year  have  an  evening  school  for  the  men  and  women." 

Words  of  gentle  discouragement  rose  to  Mrs.  Campbell's 
lips.  The  oldest  of  Doris's  school-mates  was  not  more  than 
seventeen  years  old,  and  it  did  not  seem  probable  that  this 
bevy  of  light-hearted  girls  would  really  persevere  in  a  scheme 
of  this  kind.  But  she  had  the  rare  gift  of  withholding  ob 
jections  to  a  plan  or  project,  until  it  became  really  necessary 
to  utter  them.  It  would  do  no  harm  for  these  warm-hearted 
children  to  plan  and  arrange  for  this  good  work,  and,  if 


8G  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

they  seemed  sufficiently  earnest,  and  realized  what  they  were 
undertaking,  there  was  no  reason,  so  far  as  she  could  see, 
why  they  should  be  hindered  from  carrying  it  out.  She  was 
still  young  and  enthusiastic  herself,  and  her  husband's  ever- 
ready  sympathy  with  her  had  made  her  even  more  quick  to 
sympathize  with  others  than  she  naturally  was.  It  was  the 
certainty  which  Doris  felt  of  always  being  listened  to  with 
warm  interest  and  affection,  which  made  her  tell  almost 
every  thought  of  her  heart  to  her  mother.  And  a  girl  may 
feel  well  assured,  that  when  she  seeks  other  confidants,  and 
places  them  before  her  mother,  she  is  entering  on  a  doubtful 
and  dangerous  path. 

"  Where  did  you  think  of  holding  the  school,  dear?  "  in 
quired  Mrs.  Campbell. 

"  Why,  that's  the  best  part  of  it,  mamma.  Christine  says 
that  the  old  sugar-house  on  their  place  could  be  made  quite 
fit  to  be  used  for  a  school-room  with  a  very  little  repairing 
and  a  good  cleaning,  and  Mrs.  Larsen  has  given  her  per 
mission  to  have  it  put  in  order,  and  use  it,  if  we  find  we  can 
arrange  about  the  rest.  You  see,  we  don't  mean  to  under 
take  it,  unless  we  can  be  quite  sure  of  keeping  on,  for  we 
are  all  agreed  that  it  would  do  more  harm  than  good  to  make 
a  beginning,  and  then  break  down." 

"  That  is  the  only  right  and  sensible  view  to  take,  dear, 
and  I  am  heartily  glad  that  you  all  feel  so  about  it.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  many  of  the  servants,  and  especially  some  of 
the  younger  men  and  women,  will  be  delighted  with  the 
opportunity  of  learning  at  least  to  read  and  write,  and  it 
would  cause  a  great  deal  of  disappointment  and  ill-feeling,  if 
you  were  to  begin  this  enterprise,  and  then  fail  just  as  your 
scholars  were  becoming  really  interested.  It  is  always 
well  to  count  the  cost  thoroughly,  in  any  undertaking,  but 
more  especially  where  other  interests  than  our  own  are  chiefly 
involved." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  87 

"I  know,  mamma— it  seemed  to  me  I  could  just  see  how 
dreadfully  the  servants  would  feel,  or  those  who  really  cared 
about  it,  if  we  were  to  begin,  and  then  break  down,  and  that 
made  me  hold  back  at  first.  I  am  afraid  I  hurt  Christine's 
feelings  a  little,  for  she  said,  so  reproachfully,  'I  counted  on 
you,  Doris,  whatever  the  rest  might  say.'  But  I  tried  to 
make  her  understand  what  a  beautiful  plan  I  thought  it 
was,  and  why  I  didn't  rush  right  at  it,  as  I  do  at  almost 
everything,  and  I  think  she  did  understand,  after  awhile. 
And  then  there  was  another  thing— you  know  next  Wednes 
day  week  will  be  Christmas  Day,  and  it  seemed  to  me  it 
would  be  better  for  us  not  to  try  to  begin  now,  when  we  are 
all  so  busy  planning  and  getting  ready  for  Christmas,  and 
all  the  children  are  excited  and  restless  about  it,  but  to  wait 
till  a  few  days  after  Twelfth-day,  when  they  will  be  settled 
down  a  little.  Don't  you  think  so,  mamma  ?" 

"  I  do  indeed,  dear,  and  you  don't  know  how  it  pleases  me  to 
see  my  headlong  little  daughter  growing  so  thoughtful  and 
considerate.    I  often  think  what  a  blessing  it  will  be  for  Theo 
to  have  such  an  older  sister  as  you  will  be  to  her,  darling." 
Doris's  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"Oh,  mamma!  Do  you  really  think  that?"  she  said. 
"  Do  you  truly  believe  that  I  can  be  a  help  to  dear  little 
Theo,  and  make  it  easier  for  her  to  be  good  ?  " 

"I  do,  'truly';  you  are  so  many  years  older  than  she 
is,  that  she  will  naturally  look  up  to  you  almost  as  much  as 
she  does  to  me,  and  follow  your  example  in  many  ways ;  so 
you  see  it  would  be  a  double  pain  to  me,  if  I  were  disap 
pointed  in  you." 

Doris  threw  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck,  exclaiming: 

"  Dear  mamma !    I  hope  we  shall  never  be  anything  to  you 

and  papa  but  a  double  pleasure.     I  am  trying  to  be  good— 

I  really  am,  though  I  fail  so  often  that  sometimes  I  think 

nobody  would  imagine  it!  " 


88  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"I  have  more  than  imagined  it,  darling— I  know  it,"  said 
her  mother  fondly,  "and  it  is  just  because  you  are  really 
trying,  that  you  are  so  keenly  conscious  of  your  failures. 
What  a  comfort  it  is  that  the  Source  of  all  our  strength 
' knows  all,  yet  loves  us  better  than  He  knows.'" 

"  It  is  a  comfort  to  me  now,  mamma,  but  it  used  to  trouble 
and  frighten  me  to  think  that  He  knew  everything— it  must 
seem  so  very  dreadful  to  Him.  But  I  began  to  feel  differ 
ently  on  that  awful  night  when  I  thought  dear  little  Theo 
was  going  to  die.  Do  you  think  that  is  a  mean  way  to  go  to 
Him  first,  mamma,  because  we  are  driven  to  it,  and  feel  that 
nobody  else  can  help  us  ?  " 

"No  darling,  I  would  not  call  it  exactly  that.  It  is  not 
the  best  and  highest  way  to  go,  but  we  are  very  weak  and 
foolish,  and  when  He  sees  that  we  will  not  come  in  any  other 
way,  it  seems  to  me,  He  takes  that  way  with  us,  rather  than 
leave  us  to  go  on  in  a  wrong  path." 

"That's  a  beautiful  thing  to  think,  mamma;  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  shall  ever  feel  again  that  anything  which  happens  to 
me  is  intended  for  a  punishment.  But  I  wanted  to  ask  you, 
mamma,  if  you  really  think  I  am  fit  to  help  with  this  teach 
ing?— you  know  I  lose  my  temper  so  easily,  and  of  course  a 
great  many  of  the  children  will  be  stupid  and  idle,  after  the 
first  excitement  is  over,  and  I  am  so  afraid  I  shall  be  im 
patient  and  cross  with  them." 

"  The  fear  is  a  safeguard  in  itself,  dear.  If  you  were  en 
tirely  confident,  and  made  light  of  the  undertaking,  I  should 
feel  bound  to  discourage  you  ;  but  I  think  you  see  what  a 
serious  matter  it  is,  and  so  I  do  not  fear.  How  do  the  other 
girls  feel  about  it  ?  " 

•"  At  first  they  were  all  very  eager,  and  seemed  to  think  it 
would  be  a  new  kind  of  fun  ;  but  after  Miss  Anna  had  talked 
with  them  a  while,  several  of  them  were  inclined  to  draw 
back,  but  Miss  Anna  said  no,  that  was  not  what  she  wanted 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  89 

to  make  them  do  ;  she  only  wished  them  to  begin  in  a  way 
that  would  insure  their  keeping  on.  So  then  we  asked  her 
to  direct  us — we  did  not  think  it  was  fair  to  try  to  bind  her 
to  help,  when  she  has  so  much  other  teaching  to  do,  but  we 
thought  she  would  be  willing  to  show  us  how  to  begin,  and 
superintend  us  a  little  until  we  were  well  started,  and  she 
was  just  as  lovely  about  it  as  she  is  about  everything.  You 
know  there  is  not  a  day  when  she  does  not  give  one  or  two 
music-lessons,  after  school  is  out,  and  she  reads  to  Antoinette 
for  an  hour  every  afternoon,  and  she  often  takes  home  our 
exercises  and  things  to  correct,  and  yet  she  always  seems  able 
to  make  time  for  something  more.  She  promised  to  attend 
for  at  least  the  first  week,  and  help  us  afterward  whenever 
we  wanted  her,  and  she  possibly  could,  and  I  don't  feel  half 
so  much  afraid,  when  I  think  of  that,  for  somehow  she 
seems  to  prevent  our  doing  foolish  things,  almost  without 
our  knowing  it.  Grace  and  Sara  were  exasperatingiy  humble 
about  it,  just  at  first — they  said  they  didn't  know  enough  to 
teach  anybody  anything,  and  they  knew  they  couldn't  make 
the  children  mind,  and  then  Miss  Anna  suggested  that  we 
should  have  a  sewing-class,  and  she  said  the  children  knew 
so  well  already  how  beautifully  Grace  and  Sara  could  sew, 
and  make  things,  that  they  would  be  quite  witling  to  mind 
them,  and  be  taught,  and  the  girls  said,  oh  yes,  they  wouldn't 
mind  teaching  them  to  sew,  at  all,  and  Grace  said,  in  that 
timid  little  way  she  has,  that  perhaps  it  would  be  a  good 
idea  to  give  each  of  the  girls  a  doll,  and  let  them  begin  by 
sewing  for  that,  for  that  was  the  way  she  and  Sara  had  first 
learned,  and  it  would  seem  less  stupid  to  the  little  things 
than  it  would  to  begin  on  something  large  enough  for  them 
selves.  So  Miss  Anna  said  that  was  a  very  bright  idea,  and 
when  Christine  said  we  should  have  to  send  to  the  States  for 
a  lot  of  dolls  large  enough  to  go  'round,  and  it  would  be 
weeks  before  we  could  begin,  at  that  rate,  Miss  Anna  said  no, 


90  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

she  could  give  them  a  better  plan  than  that — that. she  had  an 
old-fashioned  pattern  for  a  rag-doll,  nearly  eighteen  inches 
long,  and  that  if  we  would  all  meet  in  the  school -room,  one 
day  during  the  holidays,  we  could  have  a  cutting-out  party, 
and  each  take  a  share  of  the  dulls  home  to  sew  up,  and  then 
meet  again  when  they  were  all  sewed,  and  she  would  show 
us  how  to  stuff  them,  and  make  the  joints,  and  the  faces, 
and  something  to  look  like  hair,  and  then  we  are  to  cut  out, 
first  the  underclothes,  from  patterns  she  has,  and  keep  the 
gay  dresses  and  aprons  for  a  sort  of  reward,  to  be  made  as 
soon  as  the  underclothes  are  done.  Now  don't  you  think  it 
was  clever  of  Miss  Anna  to  think  that  all  out,  and  arrange 
it,  mamma  ?  " 

"I  do  indeed,  dear.  Miss  Anna  has  the  very  best  and 
highest  sort  of  cleverness,  and  I  am  thankful  every  day  for 
her  influence  among  us.  I  should  not  wonder  if  Grace  and 
Sara's  share  of  the  work  should  be  the  more  popular  and 
successful  part  of  the  plan,  at  least  for  some  time  to  come,  for 
J  am  afraid  very  few  of  the  children  will  prove  to  be  as  intelli 
gent  and  eager  to  learn  as  Pareen  and  Cudjoe  seem  to  be." 

"  We  couldn't  expect  that,  mamma — you  know  what  pains 
poor  Glasgow  always  took  with  them.  I  don't  know  so 
much  about  the  children  on  the  other  plantations,  of  course, 
but  it  seems  to  me  all  our  people  have  such  nice  little  chil 
dren,  that  there  will  be  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  teaching 
them,  even  allowing  for  the  stupid  and  naughty  ones." 

Mrs.  Campbell  thought,  as  she  looked  at  the  bright  face 
and  eager  eyes  of  her  little  daughter,  that  it  would  be  only 
the  very  stupid  and  stolid  children  who  could  resist  the 
earnestness  and  enthusiasm  which  Doris  would  put  into  this, 
as  into  all  her  undertakings.  She  was  losing  none  of  her 
real  brightness,  as  she  gained  in  thoughtful  ness  and  stability, 
and  her  manner  grew  more  winning  as  she  conquered  self- 
consciousness  and  self-seeking.  There  was  much,  very  much, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  91 

yet  wanting  for  the  perfecting  of  her  character,  but  the  good 
seed  had  been  sown  in  fruitful  soil,  and  was  already  spring 
ing  up  with  promise  of  a  bountiful  harvest. 

Her  mother  was  deeply  gratified  by  the  manner  in  which 
Doris  was  entering  upon  this  undertaking  ;  it  was  so  different 
from  the  thoughtless  enthusiasm  which  she  would  have 
shown  a  few  months  ago.  And  Mrs.  Campbell  could  not 
help  seeing  that,  should  the  girls  really  persevere  in  it,  the 
lessons  which  they  would  receive  would  fully  equal  in  value 
those  which  they  would  give. 

But  she  quite  agreed  with  Doris,  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  start  the  undertaking  until  the  holidays  were  over,  and 
these  would  include  Twelfth-night,  which  was  almost  as 
universally  and  specially  observed  as  Christmas  was. 

It  was  not  at  all  customary  in  the  Island,  at  that  time,  for  any 
one  to  have  a  Christmas  tree,  and  it  was  because  Mrs.  Campbell 
was  of  English  descent,  that  she  had  always  dressed  one  for 
Doris  ;  among  the  negroes,  and  even  among  the  white  people, 
it  had  created  an  amusing  amount  of  interest  and  excitement, 
and  Doris  found  that  her  effort  on  little  Theo's  behalf  was 
destined  to  afford  amusement  to  a  large  number  of  out 
siders.  Laughing  black  faces  clustered  about  doors  and 
windows  as  she  hung  the  pretty  trifles  on  the  boughs,  and, 
at  her  mother's  suggestion,  she  invited  all  the  children  in  the 
neighborhood,  both  white  and  black,  to  come  at  dark  on 
Christmas  Eve,  and  see  the  candles  lighted. 

"And  not  one  of  them,  mamma,  not  one,  seemed  more 
pleased  than  dear  little  Theo  did!"  said  Doris  excitedly, 
when  the  troop  had  dispersed;  "she  laughed  louder  than  I 
ever  heard  her  laugh  before,  and  crowed  and  kicked  and 
tried  to  clap  her  little  hands.  Oh,  mamma  !  What  fun  it 
has  been ! " 

Mrs.  Campbell  did  not  say  so,  but  the  real  pleasure  of  it 
all,  to  her,  had  been  Poris's  unselfish  delight  in  the  happiness 


92  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

of  others.  On  former  Christmases,  when  Doris  was  the  ob 
ject  and  centre  of  so  much  that  was  done,  she  had  shown  a 
more  lively  interest  in  her  own  gifts  than  in  those  which 
came  to  others ;  but  this  time  she  had  been  so  absorbed  in 
her  preparation  of  the  tree,  that  she  hud  forgotten  to  wonder 
about  them,  and  her  delighted  surprise  the  next  morning 
with  her  tableful  of  presents  came  to  her  with  all  the  charm 
of  novelty.  The  gift  which  gave  her  most  pleasure  was  the 
one  for  which  her  mother  and  father  had  sent  to  England 
months  before — a  little  gold  watch,  with  a  pretty  light  gold 
chain,  and  a  tiny  carnelian  seal,  engraved  with  her  initials. 
But  there  were  valuable  books  from  Leonard  and  the  aunts 
in  "the  States,"  a  pretty  set  of  coral  ornaments  from  the 
dear  grandmother  in  England,  a  piece  of  embroidery  left  in 
Mrs.  Campbell's  charge  by  Miss  Anna,  and  little  gifts  from 
each  of  her  schoolmates,  and  from  Antoinette.  Hilda's 
offering  came  next  in  value  to  the  precious  watch  ;  she  had 
made  a  sketch  of  little  Theo  for  Leonard,  at  Doris's  request, 
and  from  it  had  taken  a  crayon-portrait,  the  size  of  life  ;  she 
had  the  gift  of  catching  likenesses,  and,  perhaps  because  it 
was  a  labor  of  love,  had  been  peculiarly  successful  with  this 
one.  She  had  made  a  frame  of  tiny  shells,  closely  set  on  a 
wooden  foundation,  and  the  effect  was  very  pretty.  The 
delight  of  Doris  may  be  imagined. 

Before  the  date  at  which  this  story  begins,  the  English 
Church  building  had  been  totally  destroyed  by  a  hurricane, 
and  the  congregation  had  been  kindly  invited  by  the  pastor  of 
the  Danish  Lutheran  Church  to  worship  there,  until  they 
could  rebuild.  The  Church  of  England  services  were,  of 
course,  held  after  the  Lutheran  service  was  over.  There  was 
also  a  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  a  Moravian  Mission, 
with  schools  and  industrial  buildings.  Although  Mr.  Camp 
bell  and  his  family  were  Episcopalians,  they  were  totally  free 
from  bigotry  ;  they  were  much  interested  in  the  Mission,  as 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  93 

any  one  who  observed  the  simple,  unpretending  goodness  of 
the  Moravian  missionaries  could  not  fail  to  be.  The  singing 
in  this  church  was  very  sweet,  and  recurred  more  frequently 
during  the  services  than  it  did  in  the  other  churches,  and 
Mr.  Campbell  frequently  took  his  wife  and  daughter  to  the 
week-day  evening  meetings.  All  the  church  buildings  were 
of  stone,  white-washed,  and  with  green  Venetian  blinds,  or 
shutters.  They  were  simple  and  unpretentious  in  their 
architecture,  but  to  Doris,  who  had  never  seen  more  imposing 
buildings,  the  neat,  quiet  Lutheran  Church  was  a  very  sweet 
and  holy  place.  This  being  the  Government  religion  at  this 
time,  there  were  four  box-like  pews,  raised  from  the  floor, 
and  entered  by  several  steps,  which  were  set  apart  for  the 
use  of  Government  officials.  Mr.  Campbell  and  Mrs.  San  ton 
shared  one  of  these  pews  at  the  English  service  ;  there  was 
a  window  in  it  with  a  broad  seat,  and  one  of  Doris's  earliest 
recollections  was  being  perched  upon  this  window-seat,  as 
she  grew  restless  during  the  service,  and  having  her  sturdy 
little  legs  gently  but  very  firmly  held  down  by  her  mother's 
hand,  when  she  endeavored  to  vary  the  monotony  by  kicking 
her  heels  against  the  wall. 

The  churches  were  dressed  for  Christmas,  but  very 
simply,  and,  as  we  of  the  North  would  think,  sparsely. 
Sprigs  of  bay  were  stuck  along  the  tops  of  the  pews  in  small 
holes  made  for  the  purpose,  giving  to  the  church  the  look 
of  a  garden  divided  by  little  hedges. 

There  were  many  sports  and  amusements  indulged  in  at 
this  time  by  both  the  white  and  black  population.  One  of 
the  most  singular,  perhaps,  in  vogue  among  the  former  was 
"  stealing  the  pone,"  on  Christmas  Eve.  A  pone,  or  sort  of 
pudding  made  of  grated  sweet  potatoes  and  yams,  spices, 
citron,  sugar,  raisins,  currants,  bananas,  and  pieces  of  fat 
pork,  was  baked  for  hours  in  a  Dutch  oven.  This  pone  wras 
locked  up  in  the  pantry,  and  a  frolicsome  party  went  from 


94  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

house  to  house,  frying,  by  every  possible  means,  to  obtain  the 
pantry  key  or  effect  an  entrance  without  it,  and  so  take  pos 
session  of  the  pone,  which  was  then  carried  off  and  eaten  in 
triumph  at  one  of  the  neighboring  houses.  The  Campbells 
and  their  more  intimate  friends  had  never  joined  in  this 
rather  rough  fun,  but  on  this  Christmas  Eve  a  breathless  and 
triumphant  party  took  refuge  on  their  piazza,  and  Doris, 
for  the  first  time,  had  an  opportunity  to  taste  the  pone.  Her 
private  opinion  was  that  it  was  not  worth  the  exercise  of 
either  strategy  or  open  warfare.  This  diversion  was  only 
practised  in  or  near  the  towns,  and  the  marauders  had 
never  before  come  so  far  as  Mr.  Campbell's  house,  which 
stood  at  least  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  last  street  of  the 
nearest  town  ;  bat  Doris  gathered  from  their  breathless  con 
dition  and  laughing  remarks  that  they  had,  in  this  instance, 
been  hotly  pursued.  They  went  off  in  great  good-humor  at 
the  conclusion  of  their  feast,  firing  a  parting  salute  of  squibs 
at  the  large  gate  which  led  from  the  grounds  into  the  road. 

Dinner  and  dancing  parties  were  kept  up  with  unflagging 
energy  through  the  holidays,  Twelfth- night  usually  ending 
the  festivities.  Many  girls  no  older  than  Doris,  and  some 
not  quite  so  old,  were  allowed  to  join  freely  in  all  that  went 
on  in  their  own  circle  of  friends,  but  Mrs.  Campbell  had 
made  up  her  mind  not  to  let  Doris  "come  out"  until  she 
should  attain  her  seventeenth  birthday,  and  this  resolution 
was  firmly  kept  in  spite  of  many  wondering  remonstrances 
from  less  thoughtful  mothers.  Doris  herself  had  no  desire 
to  hasten  the  day.  She  was  keenly  interested  in  her  studies, 
her  life  was  full  and  happy,  and  she  rather  dreaded  the  bond 
age  which  the  change  would  impose  upon  her.  But  she  had 
been  charmed  with  her  mother's  proposal  to  invite  her  six 
schoolmates  for  a  Twelfth-night  party,  and  to  have  the  tra 
ditional  Twelfth-night  cake  baked  for  the  occasion. 

In  this  cake  were  baked  a  ring,  a  piece  of  linen,  and  a 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  95 

stick  ;  whoever  found  the  ring  was  to  be  first  among  the 
company  to  marry,  the  finder  of  the  linen  was  to  consider  it 
a  prophecy  of  prosperity,  but  the  stick  was  an  omen  of  mis 
fortune. 

The  ring,  on  this  occasion,  was  a  heavily-chased  and  very 
beautiful  one,  the  linen  a  fairy  handkerchief  of  silky  cam 
bric  edged  with  fine  lace,  and  even  the  stick,  as  if  to  mitigate 
the  blows  of  fate,  was  of  gold,  rough  and  knotted  to  repre 
sent  a  piece  of  wood,  but  fastened  to  a  pin,  and  with  a  tiny 
diamond  spark  in  each  knot.  These  things  had  been  ordered 
from  England  with  the  watch,  and  were  the  cause  of  no  little 
merriment. 

Each  slice  of  cake,  as  it  was  handed,  was  eagerly  broken 
up  by  the  laughing  girls.  Hilda  had  happened  to  be  helped 
first,  and  as  she  broke  the  slice  the  ring  tinkled  on  her  plate. 
Unconsciously  she  raised  her  eyes  to  meet  Doris's,  and  a 
bright  blush  swept  over  her  face. 

"Even  should  the  prophet  prove  a  false  one,"  she  said  in 
her  calm,  even  tones  when  the  laughter  and  exclamations 
subsided,  "it  is  such  a  very  beautiful  prophet  that  I  shall 
cheerfully  forgive  it,"  and  she  placed  the  ring  upon  the 
third  finger  of  her  left  hand,  the  only  one  which  it  fitted 
securely. 

The  pretty  handkerchief  came  near  being  sacrificed.  All 
had  been  helped  but  Jane  Barrett  and  Doris,  and  Mrs. 
Campbell,  who  was  cutting  the  cake,  felt  a  slight  resistance, 
and  drew  back  the  knife  just  in  time  to  save  the  fragile  web 
from  destruction. 

"It  is  a  fortunate  thing,"  she  said,  smiling,  as  she  cut 
another  division  of  the  cake  and  gently  pulled  the  two  slices 
apart,  "  that  my  knife  was  not  very  sharp,  for  1  have  no 
desire  for  the  part  of  Atropos ;  and  it  is  fortunate,  too, 
that  as  only  these  two  young  women  are  left,  there  can 
be  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  the  destination  of  the  divided 


96  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

prophet.  Now  I  will  put  my  two  hands  behind  me,  with 
the  handkerchief  in  one;  which  hand  will  you  have, 
Jeanie  ? " 

"The  right,  of  course,  dear  Mrs.  Campbell!"  and  in  the 
right  was  the  slice  which  had  held  most  firmly  to  the  hand 
kerchief. 

"  It  is  not  the  prophecy,  you  understand,  of  which  I  sur 
render  my  half,"  said  Doris,  laughing.  "Jeanie  is  quite 
welcome  to  the  whole  of  the  handkerchief,  and  for  fear  you 
should  be  overcome  by  my  whole-souled  generosity,  I  will 
mention  that  grandma  sent  me  half-a-dozen,  nearly  if  not 
quite  as  desirable,  in  the  abstract,  as  that  one.  But  my 
share  of  the  prophecy  I  insist  upon  keeping  !  " 

"You  are  quite  welcome  to  all  of  the  prophecy,"  said 
Jane,  flourishing  her  trophy,  t(  so  long  as  /  am  welcome  to 
the  prophet!" 

Half  the  cake  had  been  cut  and  distributed,  and  no  one 
had  found  the  stick. 

"It  is  such  a  very  good  cake,"  said  Christine,  disposing 
of  the  last  fragment  of  her  slice,  "  that  we  will  all  submit 
gracefully  to  the  necessity  of  taking  another  slice." 

"  I  will  reverse  the  order  this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell, 
"and  begin  with  Jeanio  and  Doris;  then  none  of  you  can 
charge  me  with  trying  to  influence  fate." 

Again  the  knife  was  stopped  in  its  downward  progress, 
and  this  time  it  was  arrested  by  the  fateful  stick ! 

"  That  goes  to  show  how  much  we  can  depend  upon  these 
prophets,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell ;  "  they  are  at  war  already. 
Now,  see !  I  have  cut  the  second  slice,  and  divided  the  two 
as  well  as  I  can  around  the  stick.  Jeanie,  take  hold  ;  here, 
Doris ;  now  pull  ! " 

They  pulled,  and  the  stick  remained  with  Doris. 

"I  don't  mind  such  a  stick  as  this  at  all !"  she  said,  as, 
clearing  it  of  crumbs,  she  saw  its  beauty.  "Oh,  mamma! 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  97 

nobody  but  you  would  have  thought  of  having  a  stick  like 
this.     What  a  lovely  pin ! " 

"Yes,  it  is  lovely/'  said  Hilda,  examining  it,  "but  I 
would  rather  have  my  ring." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  would,  dear,"  whispered  Doris,  with  a 
mischievous  light  in  her  eyes;  and  once  more  the  color 
swept  over  Hilda's  pale,  proud  face. 

The  party  broke  up  merrily,  but  Sara  whispered  to  her 
sister — 

"I  don't  care;  I'm  very  glad  neither  of  us  found  the 
stick." 

"But,  then,"  replied  Grace,  with  a  puzzled  look,  "they 
found  the  handkerchief  too,  you  know." 

The  quaint  festivities  of  the  negroes,  also,  lasted  till  after 
Twelfth-day.  Early  on  Christmas  morning  the  servants 
assembled  from  the  various  estates,  and  marched  into  the 
nearest  town,  carrying  gourds  covered  with  gay  ribbons 
and  filled  with  pebbles  or  seeds ;  these  they  called  "  shake- 
shake,"  and  they  managed  to  extract  a  large  amount  of 
noise  from  them  by  striking  them  on  their  hands.  Some  of 
them  played  upon  violins  and  tambourines,  and,  thus  accom 
panied,  they  went  about  to  the  houses  of  the  relatives  and 
friends  of  their  masters,  saluting  them,  and  asking  per 
mission  to  enter  and  dance.  This  was  always  cheerfully 
and  kindly  accorded  them,  and  their  dance  was  held  in 
the  drawing-room  or  large  hall.  They  were  made  very 
welcome,  and  treated  to  cake  and  a  drink  which,  for  some 
mysterious  reason,  they  called  "Miss  Bleyden."  It  was 
made  of  the  juice  of  the  prickly  pear  or  cactus,  flavored  and 
sweetened  \vith  rum  and  sugar.  Among  a  people  so  light- 
hearted  and  thoughtless  as  many  of  the  negroes  were,  it  may 
be  imagined  that  the  days  which  intervened  between  Christ 
mas  and  Twelfth-day  were  made  the  most  of;  singing  and 
dancing  were  dearer  even  than  eating  or  sleeping  to  many 


98  DORIS  AND   THEODORA. 

of  the  younger  ones,  at  least ;  and  as  the  gay  voices  and  rol 
licking  laughter  of  the  revelers  penetrated  even  to  the  rooms 
of  the  "  great  house,"  Doris  smiled  to  herself  at  the  idea 
of  trying  to  collect  the  children  for  anything  like  work 
before  the  expiration  of  every  moment  which  they  could 
claim  as  coming  within  the  holiday-time,  and  she  was  well 
aware  of  her  own  sympathy  for  this  feeling.  She  was  enjoy 
ing  her  share  of  the  fun  and  excitement  to  the  full,  while, 
at  the  same  time,  she  felt  that  she  should  work  all  the  better 
for  it  when  the  holidays  were  over. 

She  was  glad  to  find  Pareen  and  Cudjoe  being  insensibly 
drawn  away  from  their  grief  by  the  frolicsome  crew ;  but 
Hagar,  avoiding  her  fellow-servants  as  much  as  she  possibly 
could,  went  quietly  about  her  accustomed  duties,  assuming 
unnecessary  work,  and  apparently  trying  to  tire  herself  out 
through  the  day  that  she  might  sleep  heavily  at  night,  and 
so  leave  herself  no  time  for  thinking.  She  had  found,  as  so 
many  of  us  find  with  advancing  years,  that  there  is  no  sad 
ness  like  that  of  the  foregone  and  too-well-remembered  joy 
which  haunts  us  at  anniversary  times,  and  she  seemed  almost 
to  resent  her  children's  temporary  forgetfulness. 


OHAPTEE    VI. 

girls  of  Miss  Kobeston's  school  were  saved  from 
JL  feeling  the  reaction  which  is  so  apt  to  follow  the  most 
pleasant  excitement,  by  the  interest  with  which  they  turned, 
so  soon  as  the  holidays  were  over,  to  their  project  concerning 
the  children  of  the  servants.  They  had  met  once,  in  the 
holiday-week,  and,  amid  much  merriment,  the  dolls  had 
been  cut  out,  and  evenly  distributed.  Before  that  was  done, 
however,  it  had  been  necessary  to  ascertain  how  many  little 
girls  were  to  be  provided  for.  The  four  plantations,  beside 
Mrs.  Larsen's,  which  were  near  enough  for  the  children  to 
meet  at  the  old  sugar-house,  were  those  of  Mr.  Barrett,  Mr. 
Lilienthal,  Mr.  lining  and  Mr.  Campbell.  There  had  been 
some  talk  of  including  Mrs.  Santon's,  but  it  was  too  far  away 
for  any  but  the  larger  and  stronger  children  to  take  the 
necessary  walk  every  day,  so  they  reluctantly  gave  up  the 
idea.  But  Antoinette  was  deeply  interested  in  their  project, 
and  had  resolved,  should  they  be  successful,  to  teach  the 
little  ones  on  her  mother's  plantation,  at  least  to  read  and 
sew  a  little.  The  young  girl  who  waited  upon  her  was  in 
telligent  and  capable,  and  would  be  an  admirable  assistant, 
and  even  substitute,  on  the  days  when  she  herself  should  be 
disabled  by  illness.  Doris  had  reported  all  the  sayings  and 
doings  to  her  friend,  and  Antoinette  had  insisted  upon 
helping  with  the  dolls. 

"  I  have  '  all  the  time  there  is,'  you  know,  Doris,"  she 
said,  with  the  sweet,  patient  smile  which  so  often  lighted  up 
her  face ;  "  and  you  all  have  fifty  different  ways  of  spending 
your  time  to  my  one.  Besides,  it  will  amuse  mamma  to 


100  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

help  me  sew  some  of  the  dolls— I  have  often  heard  her  tell 
how  the  one  doll  for  which  she  ever  really  cared  was  a  huge, 
almost  shapeless  rag  affair,  which  grandma  made  for  her 
when  she  was  very  small,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  take  the 
pattern  of  Miss  Anna's  doll,  which  must  be  quite  an  elegant 
affair,  judging  from  your  description.  So  bring  me  at  least 
a  dozen,  and  unless  I  should  be  much  worse  than  usual,  you 
shall  have  them  in  time  for  your  opening-day." 

Pareen  had  been  employed  to  do  the  counting,  and  she 
brought  back  word  that,  including  their  own,  there  were 
seventy  children  under  twelve  and  over  five  years  old,  and 
that  of  these,  thirty-two  were  girls.  This  gave  an  average  of 
four  dolls  apiece  for  the  seven,  leaving  four  for  Antoinette; 
but  the  latter,  when  told  of  the  arrangement,  begged  so  hard 
to  be  allowed  to  take  eleven,  and  thus  reduce  the  "  general 
average"  to  three,  that  the  others  yielded,  the  more  wil 
lingly,  as  they  were  anxious  to  have  the  dolls  completed,  and 
the  first  of  their  clothes  cut  out,  by  the  Monday  following 
Twelfth-day,  when  they  hoped  to  open  their  school.  Hilda, 
who  was  taking  painting-lessons,  and  painted  quite  well, 
volunteered  to  paint  all  the  faces,  while  the  others  cut  out 
garments,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  suggested  that  wigs  should  be 
made  of  small  pieces  of  sheep-skin,  with  the  wool  rather 
closely  trimmed ;  and  these  Cudjoe  had  undertaken  to  clean 
and  prepare  in  time.  The  girls  had  all  been  devoted 
mothers  of  dolls,  in  their  time,  and  this  was  not  too  long  ago 
for  them  to  take  a  lively  pleasure  in  making  dolls  for  others. 
Contributions  of  gay  scraps  of  silks  and  ribbons,  and  larger 
pieces  of  fabric  for  gowns  and  underclothing,  had  been 
freely  bestowed  upon  them,  and  each  one  secretly  resolved 
that  her  doll-family  should  outshine  the  rest.  Grace  and 
Sara  had  a  decided  advantage  over  the  others,  in  this  part  of 
the  performance,  for  their  practice  had  made  them  very 
nearly  perfect,  whereas  some  of  the  other  girls  had  always 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  101 

disliked  sewing,  and  had  managed,  so  far,  to  escape  it  almost 
entirely. 

The  second  meeting  which  took  place  in  the  school-room, 
and  the  opening-day  which  followed,  on  the  ensuing  Monday, 
can  best  be  described  by  quoting  from  a  letter  which  Doris 
wrote  shortly  afterward  to  Leonard. 

"  MY  DEAK,  DEAR  LEONARD  I 

"  Before  this  letter  reaches  you,  you  will  have  received,  I 
hope,  the  one  in  which  I  wrote  you  an  account  of  Christ 
mas,  and  also  of  New  Year's  Day.  I  think  I  mentioned,  in 
the  one  before  that,  our  projected  school  for  the  smaller 
children  of  the  servants,  and  how  nicely  the  plan  seemed  to 
be  taking  shape.  It  is  a  fact,  now,  instead  of  a  plan,  and  I 
am  growing  more  interested  in  it  every  day.  Mamma  was 
— and  is — just  as  lovely  about  it  as  she  is  about  everything. 
I  had  a  great  many  misgivings  about  my  fitness  to  teach, 
and,  indeed,  I  seem  to  myself,  yet,  to  be  very  presumptuous, 
but  she  encouraged  me,  and  I  knew  I  should  have  her  to  go 
to,  if  I  got  into  any  difficulties,  and  so  I  thought  I  would 
try,  for  it  has  seemed  to  me,  lately,  that  I  really  don't  do 
anything  for  anybody  but  myself,  and  this  was  the  first  real 
chance  to  help  other  people  that  had  ever  offered.  I  told 
you,  I  believe,  that  it  was  Christine  Larsen  who  first  sug 
gested  it,  and  whose  mother  said  we  might  use  the  old 
sugar-house  on  their  plantation.  Some  of  their  servants 
cleaned  it  and  put  it  in  pretty  good  order,  and  then  Cudjoe 
and  one  of  their  boys  fitted  it  up  with  rough  benches — just 
boards  nailed  across  posts  driven  into  the  ground,  and  then 
a  sort  of  railing  for  a  back  to  each  bench — we  thought  it 
would  be  so  tiresome  for  the  little  things  to  have  nothing  to 
lean  back  against. 

"  They  will  not  need  desks  yet  awhile,  if  they  ever  do,  but 
we  wanted  one  desk,  for  the  teaching  things,  and  for  the 


102  DORIS  AND   THEODORA. 

teacher  to  get  behind  when  she  was  talking — you  know  we 
are  to  take  weekly  turns  with  the  teaching — so  mamma  said 
we  might  have  that  big,  clumsy  old  secretary-thing  that  you 
and  I  used  to  keep  in  the  play-room,  and  play  post-office 
with.  Cudjoe  rubbed  it  up,  and  waxed  it,  and  it  looks  quite 
fierce  and  commanding— the  only  trouble  is,  that  Christine, 
who,  you  know,  is,  and  always  will  be,  very  small,  is  obliged 
to  stand  on  a  stool  to  get  her  head  well  above  the  top !  Then 
Cudjoe  painted  a  very  nice  blackboard  for  us,  and  Hilda  is 
busy  in  all  her  spare  time,  illuminating  texts  and  mottoes,  to 
hang  about  on  the  posts — or  pillars,  as  she  insists  upon  call 
ing  them. 

"  But  we  have  had  most  fun  about  the  dolls!  You  know 
how  Miss  Anna  is — how,  if  any  of  us  put  on  airs,  or  plume 
ourselves  upon  being  superior  in  any  way  to  the  others,  she 
proceeds  to  take  us  down  in  some  nice,  quiet,  innocent,  un 
obtrusive  way!  Well,  when  the  thing  was  first  talked  of, 
Grace  and  Sara  Lilienthal  said  they  couldn't  possibly  help ; 
that  they  didn't  know  enough  of  anything  to  teach  it,  and  a 
great  deal  more  humility  like  that;  and  I  am  dreadfully 
afraid  that  we  all  looked  as  if  we  quite  agreed  with  them. 
Then  Miss  Anna  said  that  she  thought  we  ought  to  give  at 
least  half  an  hour  out  of  the  two  we  proposed  to  teach  every 
day,  to  sewing,  for  that  would  be  quite  as  useful  to  the 
children  as  anything  we  could  teach  them,  and  that  there 
were  none  of  us  so  competent  to  take  charge  of  that  depart 
ment  as  Grace  and  Sara  were.  This  is  sadly  true,  for  most 
of  us  don't  ever  do  any  sewing,  if  we  can  possibly  get  out  of 
it,  and  we  all  looked  a  little  foolish.  Then  Grace  made  a 
first-rate  suggestion — she  said  the  children  would  take  much 
more  interest  in  learning  to  sew,  if  they  began  by  sewing  for 
dolls,  and  Miss  Anna  said  that  was  a  very  bright  idea,  and 
when  somebody  said  that  we  could  only  get  so  many  dolls 
by  sending  to  the  States  for  them,  she  said  she  had  a  nice 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  103 

pattern,  and  we  could  set  to  work  and  make  them  rag-dolls. 
So  first  we  had  a  cutting-out  meeting,  and  you  may 
imagine  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  fun.  You  never  saw 
anything  queerer  than  those  dolls,  when  they  were  just  cut 
out,  before  they  were  sewed  up  and  stuffed.  Antoinette  is 
so  interested  in  everything  we  do,  and  you  know  how  much 
she  does  herself,  using  all  her  odd  minutes,  when  she  is  not 
suffering  too  much  for  anything.  Pareen  had  done  the 
counting — there  are  seventy  children  under  twelve  and  over 
five,  which  was  the  age  we  finally  agreed  upon,  and  thirty- 
two  of  these  are  girls,  so  Antoinette  insisted  upon  taking 
eleven  of  the  dolls  to  sew,  and  that  left  three  a  piece  for  the 
rest  of  us,  for  we  would  not  let  Miss  Anna  take  any — she 
has  her  hands  double-full  now. 

"  We  managed  to  have  them  all  sewed  by  the  day  we  had 
appointed  to  meet  next;  Hilda  had  promised  to  paint  all 
the  faces,  as  fast  as  we  had  them  stuffed,  and  Miss  Anna 
sewed  on  the  wigs,  which  Oudjoe  had  made  out  of  bits  of 
nice  clean  sheep-skin,  cutting  the  wool  pretty  closely,  so 
that  it  looked  like  short  hair.  We  hadn't  said  a  word  to  him 
about  coloring  them,  but  Hagar  had  got  interested  in  it,  and 
she  had  showed  him  how  to  do  it,  with  the  different  roots 
and  barks  and  berries  that  she  knows  so  much  about ;  so 
some  were  black,  and  some  brown,  and  some  yellow,  but  the 
funniest  of  all  were  the  two  or  three  that  were  a  flaming 
red!  Miss  Anna  sewed  them  on  before  the  faces  were 
painted,  so  that  Hilda  might  make  their  eyes  and  com 
plexions  harmonize  with  their  hair. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  quiet  fun  in  Hilda,  you  know, 
for  all  she  seems  so  proud  and  cold  sometimes,  and  she  tried 
to  make  each  face  different  from  the  rest.  She  took  a  sort 
of  caricature  of  each  of  us,  including  herself,  to  begin  with, 
and  then  she  took  faces  from  two  or  three  numbers  of 
'  Punch/  and  from  some  toy-books  we  hunted  up  for  her, 


104  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

and  you  never  saw  anything  funnier  than  that  family  of 
dolls,  when  they  were  ranged  around  on  the  table.    I  don't 
believe  we  should  have  done  much  work,  for  laughing  and 
'  fooling/  if  it  had  not  been  for  Miss  Anna,  but  she  kept  us 
up  to  the  mark,  and  we  managed  to  cut  out  enough  clothes 
for  the  first  week,  at  least,  and  then  we  were  all  ready  to 
begin.     We  had  thought  we  must  have  books  and  slates,  of 
course,  but  Miss  Anna  said  that  for  several  weeks  to  come, 
the  blackboard  would  be  all  we  should  need — that  we  must 
draw  the  letters  on  that,  one  by  one,  and  then  all  together, 
until  each  child  knew  the  alphabet,  and  then  the  figures  in 
the  same  way,  and  keep  exercising  them  back  and  forth  on 
those  two  things,  until  they  were  perfect  in  them,  and  that, 
she  said,  she  was  afraid  would  not  be  so  soon  as  we  thought. 
*  In  the  meantime,  papa  has  written  to  his  agent  in  New 
York  for  a  gross  each  of  slates,  and  letter-cards,  and  copy 
books,  and  spellers,  and  Miss  Anna  says  we  need  feel  no 
apprehension  that  they  will  not  be  here  by  the  time  we  want 
them  !    Now,  that  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  makes  me  know 
it  will  be  real,  solid  work.    I  have  been  teaching  Pareen  to 
read,  you  know,  at  odd  times,  and  she  is  brighter  than  many 
of  the  children  are,  but  it  does  seem  to  me,  sometimes,  that 
she  is  too  stupid  for  anything !     Still,  I  don't  mean  to  feel 
discouraged — if    only  a  dozen   out   of    the    seventy  learn 
enough  to  be  of  some  use  and  pleasure  to  them  after  they 
grow  up,  it  will  be  quite  worth  while  to  have  done  it— don't 
you  think  it  will,  dear  Leonard?    And  now  I  want  you  to 
help  me  about  something— we  have  been  thinking  that  it 
would  be  so  nice  if  we  could  find  some  sort  of  work  for  the 
boys,  and  have  it  taught  them  in  the  girls'  sewing  hour,  but 
we  can't  think  of  anything  that  would  do,  that   anybody 
here  could  teach.     Can  you  ?     Do  ask  somebody — it  seems 
to  me  that  some  of  your  professors  and  people,  who  know  so 
many  things,  ought  to  be  able  to  tell  you. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  105 

"  I  really  think  I  miss  you  more  and  more  every  day — 
there  are  so  many  things  I  want  to  tell  you,  and  talk  over 
with  you ;  and  although  I  write  you  such  reams,  I  always 
think,  immediately  after  I  have  sent  a  letter,  of  something 
of  the  highest  importance  that  I  have  omitted  to  say !  Well, 
it  is  only  a  little  more  than  four  months,  now.  Are  you  as 
glad  of  that  as  I  am,  I  wonder?  No,  I  don't  wonder  at  all, 
I  know  you  are.  Mamma  has  a  note  to  put  in  this,  so  I 
have  no  message  from  her,  but  papa  sends  you  lots  of  love, 
and  the  servants  ask  about  you,  or  send  you  some  funny 
message,  nearly  every  day.  And  as  for  me,  I  am  always 
your  very  loving  sister, 

"  DORIS. 

"P.  S. — I  have  just  read  this  over,  and  I  find  I  haven't 
once  mentioned  dear  little  Theo's  name.  That  is  too  bad, 
for  she  grows  lovelier  every  day.  She  makes  the  funniest 
little  cooings  and  chucklings,  that  I  am  quite  sure  are 
attempts  to  speak ;  and  when  I  have  her  on  my  lap,  she 
straightens  her  little  legs  out,  as  if  she  were  trying  to  stand. 
She  laughs  a  great  deal,  now,  and  when  she  is  very  much 
pleased,  she  gives  an  ecstatic  little  squeal,  which  sets  us  all 
laughing.  Her  hair  looks  like  spun  gold,  and  I  am  going 
to  put  one  of  the  little  rings  in  this  letter,  for  you  to  see — 
mamma  says  she  can't  spare  much,  but  I  think  she  has  a 
great  deal  for  such  a  little  baby,  and  so  does  Nana. 
"Once  more  your  loving 

"  DORIS." 

The  answer  to  this  letter  contained  the  wished-for  sugges 
tion  about  work  for  the  boys,  so  here  is  part  of  it : 

"  I  am  afraid  my  '  professors  and  people '  would  not  be  of 
much  use  in  solving  your  problem  about  the  boys,  but  one 


106  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

or  two  ideas,  which  have  their  origin  in  my  fertile  intellect, 
are  quite  at  your  service,  ma'am.  Do  you  remember  old 
Joseph,  Semira's  husband,  who  used  to  make  such  wonder 
fully  pretty  and  ingenious  basket-work  ?  Why  don't  you 
appoint  him  a  professor  in  your  college,  my  dear?  The 
trade  is  a  good  and  necessary  one,  the  world  over,  and  most 
of  those  little  shavers  are  very  apt,  so  far  as  my  experience 
of  them  goes,  at  any  sort  of  handiwork.  They  might  begin 
with  the  plain  work  first,  and  then,  as  they  became  proficient 
in  that,  be  promoted  into  colored  osiers  and  fancy  work. 
Then  there  is  another  thing — wood  carving.  There  is  such 
a  variety  of  pretty  wood  in  the  beloved  Island,  that  I  should 
think  they  might  learn  that  to  great  advantage.  There  is  a 
fellow  round  on  the  north  side— a  free  negro,  named  Saul,  a 
jolly,  good-natured  soul,  who  lives  in  his  own  little  hut,  on 
his  own  field— you  know  what  curious  things  he  used  to 
make,  just  with  a  jack-knife.  I  promised  him  a  regular  set 
of  tools,  in  return  for  his  numerous  donations  to  me,  in  the 
way  of  ships  and  wild  animals  of  unknown  species,  and  I 
sent  him  a  first-class  box,  months  ago,  but  he  can  neither 
read  nor  write,  and  I  have  never  heard  whether  or  not  he 
received  them — which  reminds  me  that  I  wish  you  would 
ask  him,  if  you  ever  have  a  chance,  and  let  me  know.  How 
ever,  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  he  did  receive  the  tools, 
and  is  quite  proficient  in  their  use  by  this  time,  so  I  have 
sent  a  dozen  sets,  not  so  good  as  the  one  I  sent  him,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  to  uncle's  agent,  to  be  shipped  to  you  at  the 
first  opportunity ;  and,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  use  them  as 
rewards  of  merit — you'll  know  best  how  to  offer  them  'as 
sich ' — and  if  the  little  monkeys  take  to  them,  and  it  seems 
worth  while,  no  doubt  uncle  and  some  of  the  other  gentle 
men  would  send  for  more. 

"Now,  Doris,  I  laughed  to  myself,  and  thought,  that's 
just  like  a  girl !  when  you  went  pretending  you  thought  I 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  107 

didn't  miss  you  as  much  as  you  miss  me.  But  where  you 
are  different  from  a  good  many  girls — oh,  yes,  I  hasten  to 
add,  and  boys  too ! — is  that  you  can't  pretend  long,  even  in 
fun.  You  know  well  enough  how  much  I  miss  you,  and 
aunt,  and  uncle,  but  I  don't  mean  to  howl  about  it,  for  it 
can't  be  helped,  and  so  I  am  trying  to  study  as  hard  as  I  can, 
and  have  as  much  fun  as  I  can,  lawfully,  and  that  makes  the 
time  go  faster  than  I  had  any  idea  it  would,  when  I  first 
came  back — for  I'll  admit  to  you,  in  strict  confidence,  and 
now  that  I  have  myself  in  hand  again,  that  I  was  thundering 
homesick,  if  you  will  pardon  the  figure  of  speech — worse,  I 
do  believe,  than  I  was  the  first  time  I  came.  But  '  time  and 
the  hour  run  through  the  roughest  day  ;'  that's  the  elegant 
and  poetical  way  to  put  it,  you  know,  but  I'm  not  quite 
sure  that  I  don't  like  better  the  version  by  a  queer  fellow 
here,  who  doesn't  say  much  at  a  time:  one  of  the  new 
boys  was  bemoaning  himself,  and  wondering  if  he  could 
possibly  worry  through  to  vacation,  and  this  genius  quietly 
observed : 

"  ( So  far  as  I  can  find  out,  nobody  ever  stuck  fast  yet !' 
t(  So  there's  consolation  for  you,  my  dearly-beloved  sister; 
and  every  night,  as  I  scratch  off  a  day  from  my  calendar,  and 
say,  with  the  amiable  Miss  Murdstone,  '  There's  another  day 
off  !'  I  think  how  you  are  doing  the  same  thing  with  your 
calendar — and  I  puzzled  one  of  the  little  fellows  dreadfully, 
by  telling  him  that  if  he  and  I  each  scratched  off  a  day  every 
evening,  there  would  be  two  off,  his  day  and  my  day.  He 
hasn't  stopped  racking  his  little  brains  about  it  yet. 

"  You  take  an  active  interest  in  my  intellectual  attain 
ments,  which  is  amiable  of  you,  considering  their  size,  so  I 
will  mention  for  your  comfort,  that  I  am  getting  on  steadily, 
if  not  very  rapidly,  and  that  I  feel  pretty  confident  now  of 
being  able  to  enter  the  Sophomore  class  at  Yale  next  year, 
instead  of  the  Freshman.  This  will  shorten  my  probation 


108  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

by  a  year,  you  know,  and  is  a  cheering  thought.  For  even 
should  I  decide,  finally,  not  to  settle  for  good  on  the  beloved 
Island,  I  shall  take  a  year,  when  I  have  finished  studying 
medicine,  to  rest  and  read  and  look  about  me.  It's  a  pretty 
serious  business  to  make  a  decision  for  a  lifetime,  and  I  have 
no  great  regard  for  rolling  stones — I  hope  to  stick  as  closely 
as  circumstances  will  admit  to  the  general  plan  I  chalk  out 
in  the  first  place.  It  vexes  me  to  see  how  many  men  quietly 
give  up  and  take  a  back  seat  at  the  first  real  difficulty.  But 
talk  about  your  ( reams' — what  do  you  call  this?  However, 
I  don't  doubt  that,  if  we  should  set  up  a  short-hand  reporter, 
for  the  sake  of  posterity,  when  I  come  back,  we  should  find 
we  had  talked  more  than  two  of  our  letters  put  together,  in 
the  first  twenty-four  hours. 

"I  am  not  going  to  put  Theo  oif  into  a  postscript!  I 
twisted  the  little  ring  of  'spun  gold'  around  my  finger— as 
far  as  it  would  go — and  shut  my  eyes,  and  almost  convinced 
myself  the  rest  of  her  was  there.  Dear  little  soul !  I  shan't 
see  her  as  a  baby— she  will  be  toddling  about  and  trying  to 
talk,  by  the  time  I  come  home.  I  wish  you'd  ask  Miss 
Hilda  to  make  a  little  sketch  of  her  for  me,  just  to  give  me 
an  idea  of  how  she  looks,  you  know — but  don't,  if  you  think 
she  will  think  I  am  asking  too  great  a  favor — you  can  tell 
best.  You  must  have  had  jolly  fun  making  the  dolls,  and 
giving  them  to  the  picaninnies — I  wish  I  could  have  been 
there.  And  I  think  it  was  awfully  good  of  Miss  Hilda  to 
take  so  much  pains  with  their  faces.  But  really,  Doris,  this 
isn't  doing  my  Latin,  and  I  know  your  family  pride  will 
make  you  prefer  my  stopping  this,  to  disgracing  myself  in 
the  Latin  class.  Lots  and  lots  of  love  to  aunt  and  uncle  and 
you  and  Theo.  I  will  write  to  aunt  next  week. 
"Your  loving  brother, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  109 

In  after  years,  when  Doris  was  "  sadder  and  wiser,"  she 
burnt  her  letters  as  soon  as  they  were  answered;  but  these 
fresh,  boyish,  affectionate  letters  from  Leonard  she  never  had 
the  heart  to  destroy,  for  reading  them  always  called  back  this, 
the  happiest  time  of  her  life. 

If  Miss  Anna  had  not  started  the  new  school  on  a  clear, 
common-sense  basis,  the  enterprise  would  not  have  lived  six 
weeks ;  and,  as  it  was,  the  more  ardent  and  persevering  of 
the  girls  were  often  obliged  to  float  the  others.  It  really 
seemed,  for  many  weeks,  as  if  the  manual  department  was 
the  only  one  which  yielded  any  ground  for  encouragement. 
The  little  girls  were  wildly  delighted  with  the  dolls,  and 
although  some  of  them  pouted  and  grumbled  when  they 
were  made  to  understand  that  possession  was  not  to  be  given 
until  each  one  had  completed  the  full  suit  of  clothes,  most 
of  them  cheerfully  consented  to  the  arrangement,  and  began 
with  zeal,  if  without  knowledge,  on  the  appointed  task. 
They  learned  to  sew— or  the  majority  of  them  did — with 
surprising  readiness,  and  as  soon  as  one  doll  was  earned,  and 
earned  about  by  its  proud  possessor,  the  only  difficulty  with 
the  rest  of  the  children  was  to  turn  their  attention  to  their 
studies,  and  persuade  them  that  long  stitches,  which  must 
needs  be  picked  out,  did  not  hasten  the  attainment  of  their 
wishes. 

At  Miss  Anna's  suggestion,  singing  was  introduced  at  an 
early  stage  of  the  proceedings,  and  was  soon  one  of  the  real 
pleasures  of  the  day.  The  children  all  had  quick  ears  and 
good  voices,  and  before  long  they  knew  a  number  of  easy  songs 
and  Sunday-school  hymns,  which  they  sang  with  a  spirit  and 
abandon  that  made  their  music  delightful  to  hear ;  and 
many  a  time,  when  the  young  school-mistresses  were  "tried" 
almost  too  sorely  by  stupidity  and  willfulness  and  inatten 
tion,  the  music  with  which  the  exercises  were  always  closed 


110  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

soo fclied  them  into  a  better  frame  of  mind,  and  gave  them 
courage  to  persevere. 

Both  Leonard's  suggestions  concerning  the  boys  were 
adopted,  and  with  very  pleasant  success.  The  girls  easily 
made  up  among  them  a  sum  sufficient  to  employ  Joseph  and 
Saul  twice  a  week  as  teachers,  and  Hilda  and  the  Lilienthals, 
who  were  quick  at  any  sort  of  handiwork,  soon  learned 
enough,  by  watching  the  teachers,  to  direct  the  boys  on  the 
other  three  days.  Common  jack-knives  were  easily  procured, 
and  Saul  sharpened  them  before  beginning  his  lessons.  It 
was  agreed  that,  on  all  accounts,  it  would  be  best  to  keep 
the  knives  in  the  teacher's  desk  when  they  were  not  in  lawful 
use;  but  the  little  fellows  had  to  be  closely  watched  for  the 
carrying  out  of  this  rule,  for  very  few  of  them  had  ever 
known  what  it  was  to  own  a  knife  before,  and  there  were  so 
many  delightful  possibilities  with  a  sharp  knife  in  one's 
pocket.  It  was  the  same,  to  a  smaller  degree,  with  the 
thimbles  and  other  sewing-utensils,  and  it  was  found  neces 
sary  to  institute  a  general  turning-out  of  pockets  at  the  close 
of  the  sewing  and  carving  lessons,  and  even  then  the  brighter 
ones  often  contrived  to  slip  through  with  one  of  the  coveted 
articles. 

Their  skill  as  basket-makers  was  surprising,  and  Mr. 
Campbell  offered,  when  they  should  have  finished  enough 
baskets  to  make  it  worth  while,  to  forward  their  work  to  his 
agent  in  New  York,  that  it  might  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of 
the  small  manufacturers.  When  this  was  told  them,  there 
was  a  marked  increase  of  industry,  and  only  a  few  stuck  to 
the  wood-carving,  which  was  more  difficult  and  required 
more  time  for  satisfactory  execution.  These  few,  however, 
were  ardently  interested,  and  by  the  time  Leonard's  contri 
bution  of  tools  arrived,  there  were  several  candidates  quite 
worthy  to  receive  them. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  Ill 

This  work  interested  Doris  more  than  all  the  rest,  and  she 
soon  began  to  experiment  in  it.  She  found  it  extremely 
fascinating,  and  wrote,  before  very  long,  to  Leonard,  asking 
him  to  send  her  a  suitable  set  of  tools. 

Her  time  was  very  fully  occupied  now,  but  she  had  never 
been  brighter  and  happier.  The  hours  fixed  upon  for  the 
negro  children's  school  were  from  four  to  six  in  the  after 
noon  ;  Miss  Anna's  hours  were  from  nine  till  one,  and  Doris 
had  a  music-lesson  three  times  a  week,  from  two  to  three. 
But  by  rising  a  little  earlier  for  her  ride  or  walk,  she  secured 
the  hour  between  seven  and  eight  for  practising,  and,  during 
the  week  when  it  was  her  turn  to  be  school-mistress,  con 
tented  herself  with  that ;  the  rest  of  the  time,  she  generally 
practised  from  half-past  one  to  half-past  three.  The  light 
lunch  at  one,  and  dinner  at  six,  made  it  much  easier  for  her 
to  arrange  her  day  satisfactorily,  and  when  it  was  "her 
week,"  her  mother  insisted  upon  delaying  dinner  until  half- 
past  six. 

She  had  been  inclined,  at  first,  to  be  a  good  deal  more 
zealous  than  discreet,  and  to  grudge  the  time  bestowed  upon 
eating  and  sleeping,  but  a  quiet  talk  with  her  mother  had 
convinced  her  that  she  would  lose,  rather  than  gain,  in  the 
long  run,  by  burning  her  candle  at  both  ends ;  so,  unless 
something  very  especial  prevented,  she  was  in  bed  every 
night  by  ten  o'clock,  and  whenever  this  was  impossible  or 
inconvenient,  she  resolutely  made  up  the  lost  sleep  the  fol 
lowing  day.  She  had  suggested  a  slight  shortening  of  her 
morning  exercise,  but  this  her  mother  entirely  vetoed ;  so, 
with  plenty  of  fresh  air,  sound  sleep,  and  wholesome  food,  she 
was  in  no  danger  of  wearing  out,  far  as  she  was  from  the  still 
more  dreadful  and  insidious  danger  of  rusting  out.  Her  gay 
laughter  and  snatches  of  song  about  the  house  seemed  to  fill 
it  with  sunshine;  and  the  baby,  who  was  beginning,  with 
the  help  of  chairs,  and  the  hindrance  of  many  sudden  falls, 


113  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

to  totter  about,  made  frantic  efforts  to  follow  the  sweet  voice 
whenever  and  wherever  she  chanced  to  hear  it. 

Miss  Anna  was  pursuing  a  new  plan  about  the  lessons  this 
session.  Instead  of  expecting  any  to  be  learned  at  home,  she 
gave  the  first  morning-hour  at  school  as  a  study-hour ;  all 
that  each  girl  could  thoroughly  learn  of  the  subject  for  the 
day,  in  this  hour,  was  recited  in  the  one  following,  and  her 
own  manner  of  dealing  with  the  matter  effectually  banished 
any  unfriendly  rivalry  and  triumph.  The  quicker  among 
the  girls  had  been  inclined  to  "  crow  "  a  little,  at  first,  when 
they  found  they  could  recite  lessons  two  or  three  times  the 
length  of  those  acquired  by  their  more  plodding  neighbors 
in  the  same  time  ;  but  Miss  Anna  bided  her  time,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  week  reviewed  the  week's  studies  ;  the  result,  in 
almost  every  case,  deprived  the  readier  learners  of  all  desire 
to  exalt  themselves,  and  reduced  their  average  of  pages  sen 
sibly.  There  had  been  a  strong  tendency,  when  Miss  Anna 
first  opened  her  school,  to  make  a  good  deal  of  quiet  fun  at 
the  expense  of  Grace  and  Sara  Lilienthal,  who,  to  a  super 
ficial  observer,  were  certainly  far  from  brilliant,  and  who 
often  made  laughable  mistakes.  No  notice  was  taken  of 
this,  in  words  ;  but,  by  various  unobtrusive  devices,  these 
girls  were  given  more  confidence  in  themselves  and  their 
abilities;  their  timidity  was  overcome,  and  the  best  side  of 
their  characters  drawn  out  in  such  a  way  that  the  other 
scholars  were  forced  to  modify,  and  eventually  to  retract,  their 
hastily-formed  opinions. 

The  tact  with  which  this  change  was  effected  produced 
more,  rather  than  less,  of  friendly  feeling  among  the  girls  ;  it 
was  impossible  for  them  to  spend  four  hours  a  day  with  such 
a  woman  as  Anna  Robeston,  and  not  feel  her  ennobling  in 
fluence  ;  and,  coupled  with  her  keen  sense  of  responsibility, 
was  an  equally  keen  and  true  pleasure  in  her  work.  Free 
from  any  feeling  of  being  burdened  and  oppressed  with  their 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  113 

tasks,  their  interest  and  delight  in  them  were  genuine,  and 
even  the  most  defective  memories  among  them  were  strength 
ened  and  rendered  serviceable.  Miss  Anna  had  the  faculty 
of  thoroughly  awakening  the  minds  that  came  in  contact 
with  her  own,  and  she  won  love  and  confidence,  as  they  can 
always  be  won,  by  a  generous  bestowal  of  them. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  months  slipped  away,  as  only  busy  months  can,  and 
now  it  was  nearly  the  last  of  June,  and  a  letter  had 
been  received  from  Leonard,  saying  that  he  hoped  to  sail  on 
the  26th,  and  mentioning  the  name  of  the  vessel.  Only  a 
week  or  two  now,  and  his  ship  might  be  signaled  at  any 
minute.  Doris  was  on  tiptoe  with  happy  anticipation,  and 
it  required  a  resolute  effort  to  enable  her  to  give  her  mind  to 
her  daily  duties.  Miss  Anna's  school  was  to  close  on  the 
20th,  and  she  was  going  home  to  "the  States"  for  a  three 
months'  vacation.  Warm  invitations  had  been  extended  to 
her  by  the  families  of  each  and  all  of  her  girls  to  visit  in  the 
Island  through  her  vacation,  instead  of  taking  the  long  jour 
ney  home,  but  she  had  gratefully  declined  them  all.  Her 
family  lived  in  New  England ;  there  she  had  grown  to 
womanhood,  and  among  all  the  beauty  and  pleasantness  of 
her  new  home  in  the  tropics,  she  felt  a  homesick  longing  for 
the  "stern  and  rock-bound  coast"  upon  which  nearly  all  her 
life  had  been  passed.  But  she  had  promised  to  write  at  least 
once  to  each  of  her  scholars  during  the  vacation,  and  to  read 
.with  sincere  pleasure  all  the  letters  they  chose  to  send  her, 
and  with  these  promises  they  endeavored  to  console  them 
selves.  A  few  of  them  planned  a  course  of  reading  or  study 
for  the  vacation,  but  when  Doris  consulted  with  her  mother 
upon  the  advisability  of  joining  them,  Mrs.  Campbell  dis 
suaded  her,  saying : 

"You  have  worked  while  you  worked,  darling,  with  an 
honesty  of  purpose  which  has  delighted  us,  and  now  we  wish 
you  to  have  an  entire  rest ;  or,  rather,  an  entire  change.  If 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  115 

you  like  to  practise  a  little,  I  shall  not  object,  but  I  want 
you  to  lay  aside  all  study  until  Miss  Anna  comes  back  in  the 
fall.  You  and  Leonard  must  be  out  of  doors  as  much  as 
you  possibly  can,  and  you  know  we  have  three  or  four  very 
pleasant  visits,  and  twice  as  many  visitors,  in  prospect ;  and 
you  are  going  to  begin  to  help  me  with  the  housekeeping  a 
little  this  summer,  too.  I  shall  soon  be  growing  old  and  lazy 
now,  and  I  must  have  you  all  ready  to  step  into  my  place." 

"  I  will  help  you  all  you  wish  me  to,  mamma,  for  I  like 
housekeeping,  but  you  shall  not  even  talk  about  growing 
old !  Papa  says  that  nobody  would  take  us  for  anything  but 
sisters ! " 

"Papa's  love  invests  him  with  rose-colored  spectacles, 
sometimes," said  Mrs.  Campbell,  smiling;  "he  will  be  telling 
me  I  look  like  Theo's  sister,  in  a  few  years !  But  he  will  be 
obliged  to  banish  all  the  looking-glasses  before  it  comes  to 
that!" 

The  school  in  the  sugar-house  was  to  be  disbanded  for  its 
summer  vacation  the  day  after  Miss  Anna's  closed,  and  amid 
much  joking  and  laughter  about  "  commencement-day,"  a 
closing  festival  was  arranged,  with  a  view  to  the  gratification 
of  the  parents,  quite  as  much  as  that  of  the  scholars.  The 
brighter  scholars  were  given  recitations  ;  songs  and  hymns 
were  practised  by  all,  and  a  long  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
school-room  was  to  be  covered  with  a  goodly  show  of  finished 
work,  done  by  both  girls  and  boys.  The  proud  mothers  of 
the  pupils,  as  soon  as  they  were  informed  of  the  coming  cele 
bration,  devised  various  and  wondrous  costumes  for  the 
performers,  and  the  entertainment  promised  to  be  highly 
amusing  as  well  as  edifying.  Hilda  made  time  for  some 
effective,  if  not  very  artistic,  illuminations  on  the  invitation- 
cards,  and  some  plain  cards  were  sent  to  all  the  families 
among  the  young  girls'  friends  who  were  near  enough  to 
come  ;  the  gorgeous  ones  being  reserved  for  the  parents  and 


116  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

friends  of  the  pupils.  Miss  Anna  entered  into  all  the 
arrangements  with  her  usual  warm-hearted  interest  in  their 
affairs,  offering  to  lead  the  singing,  and  distribute  the  re 
wards  which  were  to  be  given  for  the  best  specimen  of  each 
kind  of  work,  and  the  best  records  of  attendance  and  recita 
tions. 

The  affair  "  went  off  splendidly,"  as  the  girls  enthusiasti 
cally  declared  when  all  was  over,  and  the  smiling  children  and 
proud  parents  had  slowly  disbanded,  and  sought  their  differ 
ent  homes.  There  would  be  no  difficulty,  now,  in  securing 
pupils  for  the  evening-school  for  "grown-ups,"  should  they 
decide  to  undertake  it,  after  vacation,  or,  rather,  the  diffi 
culty  would  probably  consist  in  finding  accommodation  for 
all  who  would  wish  to  come.  But  three  months  is  a  long 
look  ahead,  and,  as  it  so  often — so  nearly  always — happens, 
circumstances  arose,  before  the  vacation  was  over,  which 
changed  all  their  plans,  or  rather,  rendered  them  totally 
unnecessary.  Some  years  before  the  opening  of  the  school, 
the  wives  of  many  of  the  planters,  distressed  by  the  small 
amount  of  religious  instruction  given  to  the  negroes  at  their 
own  meetings,  obtained  permission  from  the  Danish  Govern 
ment  to  collect  them  in  the  churches,  after  service,  and 
instruct  them  there.  On  the  first  Sunday  appointed  for 
this  purpose,  only  about  one  hundred  presented  themselves, 
but  in  a  few  weeks  the  various  gatherings  summed  up 
between  four  and  five  hundred.  Of  course,  for  so  large  a 
number  as  this,  many  teachers  were  required,  but  about 
this  there  was  no  difficulty,  for  prompt  offers  of  assistance 
came  from  all  sides ;  infant-classes  for  the  totally  ignorant 
were  formed,  and  those  who  manifested  more  intelligence, 
or  had  already  made  some  progress,  were  divided  into  smaller 
classes,  with  a  teacher  for  each  class.  Many  of  the  people, 
particularly  among  the  younger  men  and  women,  made  sur 
prising  progress,  soon  learning  to  read,  and  asking  to  be 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  117 

taught  to  write ;  but  many  others,  especially  the  younger 
children,  forgot  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  much  that  they  had 
learned,  and  besides  this,  as  the  schools  were  established  in 
the  first  place  for  religious  instruction,  the  ladies  hesitated 
about  giving  up  so  much  time  to  that  which  was  purely 
secular.  It  was,  no  doubt,  the  train  of  thought  fired  by  the 
frequent  discussions  of  the  subject  which  they  heard  among 
their  mothers  and  older  friends,  which  led  to  the  establish 
ment  of  the  school  in  the  sugar-house.  But  thoughtful 
men  took  up  the  subject;  the  Government  became  inter 
ested,  and,  during  the  summer  following  this  successful 
beginning,  divided  the  Island  into  districts,  put  up  a  school- 
house  in  each  one,  and  appointed  to  each  a  teacher.  The 
planters  who  owned  slaves  were  required  to  send  all  the 
children  to  school  for  two  hours  every  day,  and  later  hours 
were  appointed  for  the  adults,  when  they  were  to  have  the 
opportunity  not  only  of  listening  to  religious  teaching,  but 
of  learning  to  read,  if  they  so  wished.  At  about  the  same 
time,  it  was  decided  that  all  who  were  then  children,  and  all 
born  thenceforward,  should  be  free  at  the  age  of  twenty-one, 
and  that  all  the  older  slaves  should  be  emancipated  after  a 
term  of  years.  This  arrangement  was  equally  acceptable 
to  masters  and  servants,  for  while,  in  almost  all  cases,  only 
friendly  feeling  prevailed,  and  faithful  service  was  very  often 
rendered,  the  enlightenment  which  they  were  receiving 
made  the  slaves  feel  that  freedom  would  be  preferable  to  the 
easiest  and  happiest  form  of  slavery,  and  the  masters,  on  their 
side,  would  be  saved  a  heavy  and  often  very  troublesome 
responsibility,  or,  rather,  a  number  of  responsibilities,  while 
they  would  have  it  in  their  power  to  discharge  unruly  and 
unprofitable  servants,  and  to  hire  only  those  who  were  able 
and  willing  to  work.  The  movement  was  progressing 
quietly  and  satisfactorily  to  all  concerned,  when  it  was  inter- 


]18  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

rupted  by  events  which  must  be  told  in  another  chapter,  as 
they  do  not  yet  come  into  the  story  of  Doris's  life. 

Miss  Anna  sailed  on  the  day  following  the  "commence 
ment  ; "  and  if  fond  farewells,  and  good  wishes,  and  the 
choicest  flowers  and  fruit,  could  have  secured  her  an  agree 
able  voyage,  she  would  have  been  very  sure  of  one.  As  it 
was,  she  was  destined  to  suffer  all  the  discomforts  of  a  long 
and  stormy  passage,  and  was  thankful  for  the  first  faint 
glimpse  of  her  native  land. 

Doris  found  herself  rather  more  tired  and  listless,  after 
this  last  excitement  of  parting  with  her  beloved  teacher  was 
over,  than  she  had  expected  to  be,  but  a  few  days  of  rest 
and  fresh  air  quite  restored  her  to  her  usual  bright  health 
and  spirits,  and  then  she  began  happily  to  make  ready  for 
Leonard's  coming.  Certain  favorite  spots  about  the  planta 
tion  must  be  put  in  order,  which  should  yet  not  look  too  order 
ly,  and  for  this  sort  of  work  she  always  chose  Cudjoe,  whose 
intelligent  devotion  made  him  unrivaled  for  work  of  any 
sort.  The  sail-boat,  too,  must  be  thoroughly  overhauled 
and  repainted,  and  Leonard's  own  especial  horse  must  be 
exercised  and  groomed,  so  that  his  master  might  almost 
believe  he  had  ridden  him  only  yesterday.  The  play-room, 
where  Doris  and  Leonard  had  carried  out  so  many  wonder 
ful  devices,  must  be  beautified  and  made  a  comfortable 
retreat,  in  case  Leonard  should  take  a  fancy  to  study  there. 
So  Doris  went  "  lilting  lightly "  about  house  and  grounds, 
too  entirely  happy  to  realize  her  happiness,  and  followed  by 
loving  looks  and  whispered  blessings  from  parents  and 
servants.  Theo  was  with  her  most  of  the  time ;  she  could 
"really  walk  now,"  as  Doris  said,  and  was  making  the  most 
enchanting  attempts  to  talk.  It  was  a  pretty  sight,  as  the 
older  sister  guided  the  tiny  feet  from  place  to  place,  bending 
down  to  help  them  over  rough  spots  and  curbing  her  im- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  119 

patience  to  the  rather  slow  pace  which  was  necessary  to  the 
little  Theo's  safety. 

All  was  in  readiness  several  days  before  the  ship  was 
signaled,  and  Doris  was  growing  very  impatient;  she  had 
somehow  always  fancied  that  it  would  be  in  the  afternoon, 
toward  sunset,  that  the  signal  would  come,  so,  when  several 
of  the  girls  urged  her  to  join  an  early  morning  riding  party 
to  the  "north  side,"  where  they  were  all  invited  to  breakfast, 
she  accepted  without  hesitation,  glad,  for  once,  of  something 
which  would  make  the  time  seem  to  pass  more  rapidly.  The 
excursion  proved  a  very  delightful  one,  but  their  hospitable 
entertainers  made  themselves  so  agreeable,  that  the  home 
ward  ride  was  not  begun  so  early  as  they  had  intended,  and 
it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  intensely  warm,  when  Doris, 
having  bade  her  friends  good-bye  at  the  entrance-gate,  came 
slowly  up  the  avenue,  checking  Dirck,  as,  in  his  impatience 
to  reach  the  stables,  he  tried  again  and  again  to  break  into 
a  gallop.  Cudjoe  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  horse-block,  with 
a  smile  of  such  unusual  width  on  his  honest  black  face,  that 
Doris  inquired  pleasantly: 

"  What  is  it,  Cudjoe  ?     What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Missy  see  when  she  go  in  de  house,"  he  answered,  ex 
tending  the  smile,  until  it  seemed  in  danger  of  meeting  at 
the  back  of  his  head,  "  Mass'  Le ,  dey  say  I  not  tell  !  " 

A  burst  of  ringing  laughter  from  the  hall  followed  Cudjoe's 
zealous  attempt  to  keep  the  secret ;  a  tall  form  dashed  down 
the  steps,  and  Doris  was  caught  from  her  pony,  and  held 
fast  in  Leonard's  strong  arms. 

Laughing  and  crying  all  at  once,  she  tried  to  ask  him 
when  he  had  come. 

•  "You  were  hardly  out  of  sight,"  he  replied,  "or  so  Cudjoe 
tells  me,  when  our  ship  was  signaled,  but  in  the  general 
excitement  it  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  anybody  to  run  after 
you  and  bring  you  back,  and  then,  after  I  had  landed,  and 


120  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

got  up  here,  and  they  told  me  where  you  were,  it  was  so 
late,  that  uncle  said  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  send 
for  you,  for  you  would  be  at  home  soon,  he  knew." 

' '  Oh,  Leonard  ! "  exclaimed  Doris,  "  how  shabby  you  must 
think  me,  to  go  off  this  way,  when  we  were  expecting  you 
all  the  time !  But,  indeed,  I  was  so  sure  you  would  come  in 
the  evening,  just  at  sunset,  that  I  never  dreamed  of  missing 
your  arrival  by  going  away  this  morning — I  only  thought  it 
would  make  the  waiting-time  pass  more  quickly ! " 

"Well,  and  didn't  it?"  asked  Leonard,  with  a  joyous 
laugh ;  "  you  see  it  '  fetched '  me  immediately — we  have  been 
beating  about,  outside  the  harbor,  with  a  miserable  contrary 
wind,  and  this  morning  the  wind  suddenly  '  went  about/  and 
we  came  sailing  in  as  fast  as  even  my  heart  could  wish! 
How  you  have  grown,  Doris !  And  how  lovely  the  baby  is — 
and  aunt  and  uncle  don't  look  a  day  older,  and  the  dear  old 
place  is  just  the  same,  and  really,  if  it  would  not  shock  the 
servants,  I  should  like  to  cart-wheel  myself  all  over  the 
piazza — as  it  is,  let's  try  this  ! "  and  catching  Doris  into 
position,  and  whistling  a  lively  dancing-tune,  he  waltzed  her 
up  and  down  the  wide  hall  until  both  were  breathless.  Mrs. 
Campbell  and  her  husband  looking  on  from  the  cool  parlor, 
and  laughing  quite  as  much  from  joy  as  from  amusement. 

"You  see,  Doris,"  said  Leonard,  when  they  had  subsided 
upon  the  lower  step  of  the  broad  staircase,  and  he  was 
vigorously  fanning  her,  "  I  have  been  so  fearfully  studious, 
and  dignified,  and  responsible,  for  the  last  few  weeks,  that 
this  is  the  reaction — and  you  haven't  even  asked  me  whether 
I  pulled  through,  or  whether  I  was  plucked,  and  have  come 
home  to  hide  my  head  until  my  feathers  grow  again ! " 

"  I  should  just  like  to  know  what  chance  you  have  given 
me  to  ask  you  anything,  you  crazy  boy !  And  it's  extremely 
probable,  isn't  it,  that  you  would  be  carrying  on  in  this  pre 
posterous  manner  if  you  had  been  plucked!  But  did  you 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  121 

just  'pull  through,'  or  come  out,  as  I  expected  you  to,  with 
flying  colors  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  anything  to  complain  of,"  he  replied,  content 
edly,  "  but,  '  on  the  contrary,  quite  the  reverse/  It  suddenly 
struck  me,  a  few  months  ago,  when  the  professor  had  made 
me  an  unusually  pretty  speech,  that  if  I  really  laid  myself 
out  on  it,  I  might  pass  the  examination  for  the  Junior,  in 
stead  of  the  Sophomore  class;  I  asked  the  old  gentleman 
what  he  thought  about  it,  and  he  encouraged  me,  in  the 
kindest  manner,  to  try.  I  tell  you,  I  didn't  let  the  grass 
grow  under  my  intellectual  feet,  after  I  had  once  made  up 
my  mind,  and  written  to  have  my  application  changed,  for 
the  thought  of  failure  was  horrible  to  me,  and,  Doris,  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,  for  I  know  you'd  never  think  I 
meant  anything  for  bragging,  but,  although  most  of  the 
others  were  college-fellows,  who  had  been  regularly  through 
the  Freshman  and  Sophomore  classes,  my  name  was  third 
best  in  a  class  of  sixty !  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"Just  what  I've  always  thought  about  you,  that  you  can 
do  anything  which  you  really  try  to  do,"  said  Doris,  with  a 
look  of  proud  happiness  on  her  face,  such  as  none  of  her  own 
achievements  had  ever  called  up;  "that  will  take  off  two 
whole  years  from  your  college-course,  and  you'll  begin  your 
real  career  that  much  sooner!" 

"You're  the  worst  sort  of  a  flatterer,"  said  Leonard,  laugh 
ing,  and  coloring  high  with  pleasure ;  "  every  one  else  has 
seemed  at  least  a  little  surprised,  but  you  take  it  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course !  Don't  cater  to  my  vanity  at  that  rate, 
Doris,  or  perhaps  you'll  turn  me  into  an  intolerable  prig, 
who  thinks  the  world  not  quite  large  enough  for  himself  and 
his  achievements  !" 

"  I'm  not  afraid — but  do  you  know,  Mr.  Junior,  this 
riding-habit  is  not  quite  so  cool  as  a  muslin,  and  I  heard  an 
ominous  sound  of  ripping  when  you  compelled  me  to  that 
6 


122  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

wild  waltz — I  must  be  permitted  to  put  in  for  repairs  and 
refitting,  and  then,  oh  then  !  we  will  talk  all  day ! " 

"Well,  don't  be  long,  dear — you  look  so  dreadfully  young- 
womanish,  and  sort  of — oh,  I  can't  think  of  a  word,  but  I  do 
believe  that  if  I'd  stopped  to  look  at  you,  I  should  have 
been  almost  afraid  to  hug  you,  you  great,  tall,  pr — proper- 
looking  person!" 

"And  I  should  have  been  quite  afraid  to  be  hugged,  if  I 
had  been  given  time  to  think  about  it,  by  such  a  fierce, 

commanding,  elderly  young  man,  especially "  and  Doris 

stroked  her  upper  lip,  and  twirled  her  fingers,  with  a  mis 
chievous  laugh,  as  she  sped  upstairs.  For  on  Leonard's  lip 
was  a  faint  black  line,  where  the  "coming  event"  of  his 
mustache  was  "casting  shadows  before." 

Halcyon  days  followed  that  happy  one  of  Leonard's 
arrival;  long,  delightful  drives  and  rides  and  walks  in  the 
first  sweet  cool  of  the  day;  readings  and  talk  and  music 
when  the  heat  drove  them  into  the  house;  merry  visiting 
and  receiving  in  the  starlit  and  moonlit  evenings.  The 
little  Theo,  shy  at  first  of  the  tall,  black-haired  stranger, 
soon  came  to  him  with  unquestioning  confidence,  and  loved 
no  perch  better  than  she  loved  his  strong  shoulder.  There 
were  sailing  parties,  too,  on  the  blue  waters  of  the  bay,  and, 
whenever  Doris  could  do  so  unobtrusively,  and  without 
seeming  to  make  an  especial  point  of  it,  she  managed  to  in 
clude  Hilda  in  their  expeditions,  usually  arranging  it  so  that 
there  was  also  a  companion  for  herself.  Very  often  this  was 
Jane  Barrett.  There  was  much  sympathy  between  them,  on 
many  points,  but  they  differed  so  entirely  in  some  of  their 
views,  that  argument  was  never  at  an  end.  It  was  always 
perfectly  good-tempered,  and  both  declared  that  they  never 
felt  so  entirely  settled  in  their  convictions  about  anything 
as  they  did  after  one  of  these  closely-contested  engagements. 
Jane's  mind  was  more  logical  than  Doris's,  and  she  was  much 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  123 

more  capable  of  seeing  all  sides  of  a  subject,  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  Doris's  perceptions  were  quicker  and  keener,  and 
she  never  failed  to  seize  an  advantage  or  pounce  upon  a  weak 
point.  Miss  Anna  had  so  thoroughly  succeeded  in  awaken 
ing  their  minds,  and  interesting  them  in  the  various  ques 
tions  of  the  day,  that  they  were  never  at  a  loss  for  subjects 
of  discussion ;  these  talks,  in  turn,  led  to  much  hunting  of 
authorities,  and  they  were  both  unusually  well-informed  for 
girls  of  their  age  and  social  position.  One  endless  theme 
between  them  was  slavery.  Doris  had  become  convinced 
that  no  man  had  a  right  to  call  another  human  being  his 
property,  and,  although  she  had  seen  only  the  most  rose- 
colored  side  of  the  evil,  her  imagination  had  enabled  her  to 
appreciate  what  this  too-absolute  power  would  be  in  the 
hands  of  wicked  and  unscrupulous  persons.  She  was 
heartily  glad  that  the  emancipation-movement  was  begun, 
and  could  hardly  be  convinced  of  the  rationality  of  making 
it  slow  and  gradual,  that  so  the  people  might  be  prepared  to 
enjoy,  and  rightly  use,  their  freedom.  Jane,  on  the  other 
hand,  could  not  be  convinced  of  the  wisdom  of  freeing  the 
slaves  at  all.  She  insisted  that  they  were  by  nature  improv 
ident  and  childish,  and  totally  incapable  of  governing  or 
providing  for  themselves,  and  that  while,  in  the  abstract, 
arguments  against  slavery  were  easily  cited,  it  would  be  found 
impossible  to  make  them  work  practically,  adding,  that  the 
abuse  of  slavery  was  no  more  an  argument  against  its  use, 
than  it  would  be  in  any  of  the  countless  cases  where  use  was 
acknowledged  to  be  right,  and  abuse  to  be  wrong.  So  while 
Doris  and  Jane  peaceably  wrangled  within  reach  of  voices, 
but  not  of  words,  Hilda  and  Leonard  found  no  apparent 
difficulty  in  keeping  the  peace.  Doris  had  some  time  ago 
divined  their  partiality  for  each  other,  and  she  could  see  no 
reason  why  it  might  not,  in  time,  grow  into  a  deeper  feeling. 
She  had  been  inclined,  when  Leonard  first  began  to  express 


124  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

to  her  his  admiration  for  Hilda,  to  let  jealousy  weaken  her 
friendship  for  one,  and  her  love  for  the  other,  but  she  was 
learning  better  things,  and,  as  soon  as  she  felt  certain  that 
neither  Mrs.  Ufling  nor  Mr.  Campbell  objected  to  their  fre 
quent  meetings,  she  quietly  withdrew  into  the  background, 
whenever  her  doing  so  would  leave  Leonard  more  free  to 
enjoy  Hilda's  society.  Perhaps  she  could  not  so  readily 
have  done  this,  had  she  not  felt  a  very  warm  and  sincere 
admiration  for  Hilda's  character,  which  was  a  fine  and  noble 
one,  marred  by  one  or  two  striking  faults,  the  most  notice 
able  of  which  was  pride.  She  was  often  placed  in  foolish 
and  painful  positions,  brought  about  by  her  invincible  re 
pugnance  to  retracting  anything  she  had  said,  or  abandoning 
any  line  of  conduct  to  which  she  had  committed  herself,  but 
she  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some  harder  lesson  than  any  she 
had  as  yet  received,  to  arouse  her  to  a  true  sense  of  this  fault. 
Doris  was  amply  rewarded  for  her  unselfish  regard  for 
Leonard's  happiness,  by  his  increasing  affection  and  con 
fidence.  He  had  not  yet  spoken  plainly  concerning  Hilda, 
bat  he  took  no  pains  to  hide  from  his  sister  the  state  of  his 
feelings,  and  to  thank  her,  by  look  and  manner,  for  the  part 
she  was  taking.  To  a  fun-loving  girl  of  sixteen,  the  temp 
tation  to  teasing  words  and  looks  was  sometimes  very  great, 
but  she  carefully  refrained  from  yielding  to  it. 

She  had  told  Leonard  all  the  particulars  of  the  Twelfth- 
night  party,  and  he  had  listened  with  much  amusement;  but 
there  had  been  so  much  to  hear  and  to  tell,  upon  both  sides, 
that  he  had  not  remembered  for  many  days  about  the  ring 
and  handkerchief  and  stick,  and,  as  soon  as  he  noticed  the 
heavy  and  beautiful  ring  upon  Hilda's  engagement-finger,  it 
filled  him  with  a  nameless  apprehension.  He  also  saw,  or 
fancied  he  saw,  that  she  seemed  embarrassed,  on  two  or  three 
occasions,  by  his  looking  at  the  ring.  He  tried  in  vain  to 
think  of  some  easy  and  natural  way  of  introducing  the  sub- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  125 

ject,  and  he  could  not  quite  bring  himself  to  ask  Doris  about 
it.  Hilda,  on  her  side,  could  not  account  for  the  conscious 
feeling  which  held  her  back  whenever  she  attempted  to  tell 
him  about  the  ring,  which  was  as  often  as  she  saw  him  look 
ing  at  it.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  her  wearing  it  on  the 
engagement-finger  could  mislead  any  one,  and  she  did  not 
understand  the  look  of  uneasiness  which  the  sight  of  it 
called  up  in  his  face. 

They  were  riding  together,  one  morning,  with  Doris  and 
Jane  Barrett  at  a  little  distance  before  them,  when  Hilda, 
who  had  taken  off  her  gloves  to  secure  the  pins  in  her  hair, 
dropped  one,  and  he  at  once  sprang  off  his  horse  to  pick  it 
up.  As  he  handed  it  back  to  her,  she  held  out  her  left  hand 
for  it,  merely  because  the  reins  were  in  her  right.  Here,  it 
seemed  to  him,  was  his  opportunity.  He  did  not  dare  to 
take  her  hand,  as  he  would  have  done  a  few  years  before, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  but  he  did  not  at  once  release 
the  glove,  and  remarked,  as  carelessly  as  possible  : 

ff  What  a  very  beautiful  ring  that  is,  Miss  Hilda — it  looks 
like  a  piece  of  English  workmanship." 

"  It  is,"  replied  Hilda,  emulating  his  would-be  carelessness, 
but,  to  her  extreme  vexation,  she  knew  by  the  sudden  heat 
in  her  cheeks,  that  they  had  turned  conspicuously  red.  Now 
it  so  happened  that  Leonard  had  heard,  only  this  very 
morning,  that  an  English  man-of-war  had  been  stationed  off 
the  Island  during  many  months  of  his  absence,  and  he  at 
once  jumped  to  a  most  rash  and  unwarrantable  conclusion. 
He  had  meant  to  ask  Hilda  to  let  him  examine  the  ring 
more  closely,  and  then  artfully  lead  the  conversation  in  such 
a  way  that  she  would  set  his  mind  at  rest  about  the  giver, 
without  being  able  to  charge  him  with  unwarrantable  curi 
osity.  But  what  was  the  use,  now  ?  he  asked  himself,  and 
a  very  dismal  echo  answered,  None !  If  it  had  been  simply  a 
gift  from  one  of  her  girl-friends,  or  a  member  of  her  family, 


126  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

he  argued,  she  would  Lave  had  no  earthly  reason  for  looking 
confused  about  it ;  one  of  the  traits  which  he  had  always  ad 
mired  iii  her  was  her  proud  frankness  ;  one  might  rely  upon 
hearing  the  exact  truth  from  Hilda,  always,  and  about  every 
tiling.  Well,  if  she  did  not  choose  to  tell  him,  he  certainly 
would  concern  himself  no  farther,  and  if  she  did  choose  to 
throw  away  her  heart — and  such  a  heart!— upon  one  of 
those  English  coxcombs,  he  hoped  he  could  stand  it— it 
showed  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in  her,  that  was  all ! 

Thought  is  a  quick  traveler,  and  all  this  gloom  passed 
through  his  mind  in  the  few  seconds  during  which  he  kept 
his  hold  upon  Hilda's  glove.  He  released  it  with  a  sudden 
ness  which  almost  made  her  hand  fly  up,  and  sprang  upon 
his  horse  without  another  word.  And  then  it  suddenly 
dawned  upon  her,  that  the  beautiful  ring,  arid  the  engage 
ment-finger,  and  her  own  "silly  confusion"  would  drive 
him  to  but  one  inference  !  If  only  she  had  not  been  so  utter 
ly  foolish  !  Surely  he  was  too  thoroughly  a  gentleman  to  have 
imagined  anything  which  she  would  dislike  him  to  imagine, 
if  she  had  frankly  and  unconsciously  told  the  history  of  the 
ring,  the  first  time  she  saw  that  he  noticed  it.  It  was  too 
late  now,  however,  she  was  very  sure  of  that.  If  he  chose  to 
think  idiotic  and  uncharitable  things  about  her,  why,  he  was 
quite  welcome  to ! 

And  in  a  very  few  moments  she  had  worked  herself  into 
an  injured-innocence  frame  of  mind  quite  equal  to  his  own. 
But,  being  a  woman,  she  recovered  her  outward  serenity 
long  before  he  did ;  before  they  had  gone  a  mile,  she  was 
talking  in  her  brightest  manner,  and  was  so  very  gay  and 
gracious,  that  he  decided  immediately  that  she  must  be  in 
tensely  happy,  and  benevolently  anxious  to  give  him  such 
crumbs  of  her  happiness  as  she  felt  she  might  justly  dispense 
to  the  outside  world  !  He  was  very  much  obliged  to  her,  but 
that  was  not  exactly  the  sort  of  happiness  he  wanted.  And 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  127 

he  was  so  dull  and  spiritless  during  tlic  remainder  of  the 
ride,  that  Hilda  reached  home  in  a  curiously-divided  frame 
of  mind — she  was  deeply  vexed  and  annoyed  at  the  blunder 
he  had  "  chosen"  to  make  ;  whence,  then,  was  this  buoyant 
feeling  of  delight,  as  she  thought  of  his  rueful  countenance 
when  he  last  looked  upon  the  fateful  ring?  One  thing  was 
quite  certain  ;  there  was  nothing  whatever  for  her  to  say  or 
do  in  the  matter.  In  the  course  of  time  he  would  learn — 
he  could  not  fail  to  learn  from  Doris,  or  some  one  of  the  seven 
girls,  about  the  Twelfth-night  party,  and  the  manner  in 
which  tho  lots  had  fallen,  and  if,  in  the  meantime,  he  chose 
to  make  himself  miserable  with  facts  of  his  own  inventing, 
it  was  no  affair  of  hers !  But  suppose,  just  for  argument's 
sake,  that  in  the  meantime  he  happened  to  discover  what  a 
very  intelligent  and  attractive  girl  Jane  Barrett  was  ?  It  was 
proverbial  that  wounded  hearts,  and  especially  men's  hearts, 
were  frequently  cured  by  a  second  wound.  Let  it  be  so, 
then,  rather  than  she  should  step  down  by  a  hair's-brcadth 
from  the  pinnacle  of  her  womanly  dignity.  She  had  let  the 
precious  time,  when  she  might  with  perfect  innocence  have 
told  him  about  the  ring,  slip  out  of  reach,  so  now  she  would 
take  the  consequences.  And  there  was  no  apparent  differ 
ence  in  her,  while  she  was  taking  them,  save  that  she  held 
her  head  a  little  higher,  and  seemed  rather  more  gay  and 
light-hearted  than  usual. 

As  for  Leonard,  he,  being  "only  a  man,"  allowed  it  to  be 
seen  very  plainly  that  something  was  troubling  him.  lie 
was  much  more  silent  than  usual,  and,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  to  Doris's  utter  amazement,  inclined  to  be  a 
little  peevish  and  captious.  He  managed  to  escape  the 
morning-ride  for  several  days,  by  starting  at  abnormally 
early  hours  upon  long  walks,  and  having  discovered  the 
renovation  of  the  old  play-room,  to  retreat  there  for  study 
with  a  persistency  which,  under  different  circumstances, 


128  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

would  have  been  highly  creditable  to  him  !  For  a  few  days 
Doris  unsuspectingly  accepted  his  excuses  "  at  the  foot  of  the 
letter."  Then  she  began  to  wonder,  and  finally  to  suspect, 
not  the  exact  state  of  affairs,  but  that  Leonard  and  Hilda 
must  have  quarreled  about  something — what,  she  could  not 
imagine,  for  whenever  she  had  chanced  to  make  a  third  in 
any  of  their  recent  conversations,  it  had  struck  her  that  such 
perfect  unanimity  of  sentiment  as  they  manifested  must  be 
excessively  monotonous!  Besides,  it  seemed  to  her  that  if 
they  really  had  quarreled,  Hilda  would  not  be  in  such  un 
usually  good  spirits.  Still,  she  hesitated  about  saying  any 
thing  to  Leonard  alluding  to  the  state  of  affairs,  lest  he  might 
think  her  meddlesome,  and  as  he  and  Hilda  tried  very  hard 
to  meet  and  speak  as  if  nothing  had  come  between  them, 
she  tried  to  believe  that  this  supposition  was  purely  imagin 
ary  on  her  part.  She  was  not  left  long  to  conjecture,  how 
ever,  for  Leonard,  when  the  siege  had  lasted  three  or  four 
days,  suddenly  hit  upon  what  he  considered  a  highly  astute 
and  prudent  plan  for  discovering  whether  or  not  his  suspi 
cions  were  correct. 

Doris  had  inveigled  him  into  riding  with  her  that  morn 
ing  by  saying,  the  evening  before,  "The  girls  cannot  go 
riding  with  me  to-morrow  morning,  Leonard ;  are  you  going 
to  leave  me  to  my  fate,  and  allow  me  to  ride  alone  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  not,  Miss  Goose ! "  he  said,  putting  his 
arm  about  her,  and  joining  in  her  walk  up  arid  down  the 
stone  piazza;  "you  shouldn't  ask  questions  of  which  you 
know  the  answer !  " 

"  Please,  what  should  I  have  said  ? "  asked  Doris,  with 
pretended  meekness. 

"  You  should  have  said,  '  Leonard,  I  desire  your  attendance 
on  my  ride  to-morrow  morning,'  with  the  air  of  conferring  a 
favor ! " 

"But  I  don't  desire  it !  "  said  Doris,  simply,   "unless  you 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  129 

really  wish  to  go.  You  seem  to  have  fallen  in  love  with 
solitude,  lately,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  drag  you,  an  unwilling 
prisoner,  at  Dirck's  heels." 

"  You  are  very  good,  ma'am,  exceedingly  considerate,  but 
when  I  begin  to  find  it  a  burden  to  wait  on  my  only  sister, 
I  will  hasten  to  let  you  know ! " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Doris,  laughing;  "  I  hope  you  will  not 
hesitate.  But  I  am  not  sure  I  shall  release  you,  even  after 
you  tell  me." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  will,  when  I  tell  you  !  "  he  rejoined, 
"but  you  needn't  do  it  before!  By  the  way,  Doris,  if 
you  don't  mind  getting  up  a  little  earlier,  we  might  take 
that  delightful  long  ride  through  the  plantations,  and  coming 
home  by  the  beach,  that  we  took  the  day  before  I  went  away 
last  fall.  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  old  Semira  — I  haven't  had 
any  maube  since  I  came  home,  and  I  want  some !" 

"Oh,  that  will  be  delightful!"  said  Doris,  eagerly.  "I 
was  wondering  if  you  remembered  about  that  last  ride,  and  I 
don't  mind  getting  up  sooner,  in  the  least.  I  do  believe  Nana 
could  call  me  at  any  hour  of  the  night  that  I  chose  to  fix ! " 

"Very  well — she'd  better  call  me  too,  for  I  might  not  hap 
pen  to  wake." 

"  It  would  be  a  happen  if  you  did! "  replied  Doris;  "you 
don't  suppose  I  was  going  to  trust  you  about  that,  Mr.  Leon 
ard  ?  You  mean  well  over  night,  but  you  don't  recollect  your 
meaning  in  the  morning,  always ! " 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  used  to  do  to  you,  miss,  when 
you  indulged  in  such  impertinence  as  that,  in  those  good  old 
'  vanished  days '  when  your  hair  and  frock  were  short  ?  " 

There  was  a  mischievous  gleam  in  Leonard's  eyes,  and  a 
little  forward  motion,  as  if  he  were  "up-and-a-coming," 
and  Doris,  laughing  and  shaking  a  threatening  finger  at  him, 
ran  into  the  house,  and  called  from  the  door,  "  Don't  behave 
like  a  Freshman,  dear!  Good  night." 


CHAPTEE    Till. 

rTlHEY  were  off  by  half-past  four  the  next  morning,  and 
~L  Leonard,  calling  himself  a  number  of  uncomplimentary 
names,  resolutely  shook  off  the  depression  of  the  last  few 
days,  teasing  Doris  into  making  bright  retorts  and  daring 
sallies  into  the  enemy's  country.  She  had  not  realized  how 
much  his  unusual  dullness  had  affected  her  own  spirit,  but 
she  rose,  at  the  change,  with  her  usual  buoyancy,  laughing 
at  and  helping  him  to  recall  the  old  jokes,  which  still  re 
tained  their  flavor.  They  sang,  too,  when  they  came  to  a 
part  of  the  road  where  they  were  sure  of  not  being  heard ; 
Doris's  sweet,  pure  contralto  harmonizing  with  Leonard's 
tenor  voice  in  a  manner  very  agreeable  to  both  of  them. 
They  had  made  the  greater  part  of  the  long  round,  and  had 
reached  the  smooth,  firm  sand  of  the  beach,  reining  in  their 
horses  to  enjoy  the  sparkling  prospect,  and  the  "  keen,  sweet 
smell,"  when  Leonard,  in  -his  most  casual  and  careless  man 
ner,  observed : 

' '  It's  a  great  pity  Jeanie  and  Hilda  could  not  come  with 
us  this  morning.  We  must  try  to  arrange  with  them  to 
make  this  round  again,  in  their  company." 

"Yes,"  said  Doris,  quite  aware  that  Leonard  had  some 
special  object  in  view,  in  introducing  Hilda's  name,  but  suc 
ceeding  in  looking  quite  unaware,  save  for  a  little  twinkle  in 
her  eyes;  " they  have  never  been  just  this  way,  although  I 
dare  say  they  have  gone  over  all  the  ground,  at  different 
times.  Perhaps  we  can  manage  it  next  week — I  could  ask 
Hilda  and  Jeanie  to  spend  the  night  with  me,  so  that  we 
might  be  sure  of  an  early  start." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  131 

"I  should  think  that  would  be  better,"  said  Leonard,  with 
an  air  of  impartial  judgment  which  tickled  Doris's  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  so  that  she  could  scarcely  suppress  a  smile. 
"  By  the  way,  Doris,"  he  added,  "  I  suppose  you  did  not 
want  for  cavaliers  while  that  English  ship  was  stationed  here. 
I  was  looking  over  the  card-basket,  and  I  found  five  cards 
inscribed  with  the  same  name — Colonel  John  Liscombe — 
and  English  names  in  smaller  quantities  scattered  all  through 
the  basket." 

"  My  dear  Leonard,"  said  Doris,  allowing  herself  to  laugh 
now,  "have  you  so  entirely  imbibed  the  etiquette  of  the 
States  that  you  imagine  that  we,  a  parcel  of  school-girls,  not 
yet  'out,'  even,  were  allowed  to  be  cavaliered  by  dashing 
English  officers  ?  A  series  of  highly  proper  calls  upon 
mamma,  during  which  I  was  sometimes  permitted  to  share 
the  radiance  of  their  uniforms,  and  one  state  dinner,  in 
which  I  joined  by  special  dispensation,  are  all  the  English 
naval  affairs  of  which  I  can  speak  by  anything  more  than 
hearsay." 

"But  surely  it  was  not  so  at  the  other  houses,"  said 
Leonard ;  "  you  know  aunt  and  uncle  are  considered  rather 
behind  the  age  in  their  ideas  about  you  and  society." 

"  Oh,  of  course  they  were  entertained  by  nearly  every  one," 
replied  Doris,  "but  so  far  as  we  seven  were  concerned,  it 
mattered  very  little,  for  Miss  Anna  has  managed  to  persuade 
all  the  other  mothers  to  suppress  their  daughters  until  next 
year,  when  we  are  to  '  finish/  or  rather,  she  is  to  finish,  and 
we,  as  she  insists,  are  to  go  on  by  ourselves." 

"Then  do  you  really  mean  to  say,"  asked  Leonard,  with 
a  perceptible  access  of  cheerfulness,  "  that  none  of  the  seven 
saw  any  more  of  these  fascinating  Englishmen  than  you 
did?" 

"  I  think  I  may  safely  say  so,"  answered  Doris,  "although," 
she  added,  mischievously,  "I  don't  know  that  I  should  have 


132  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

felt  called  upon  to  do  so,  but  for  this  rigid  cross-examina 
tion.  Did  you  fear  the  effect  of  a  uniform  and  cocked-hat 
upon  my  infant  mind  ?  Then  I  will  mention,  in  confidence, 
that  so  far  as  my  limited  opportunities  enabled  me  to  judge, 
the  Englishmen  were  painfully  stupid — what  you  would 
probably  call  '  sticks.'  But  come — we  have  admired  the  view 
for  fully  five  minutes,  and  Dirck  always  expects  a  gallop  on 
this  stretch  of  sand." 

Leonard  was  well  satisfied  to  take  the  gallop,  and  defer 
the  rest  of  his  inquisition.  The  satisfaction  he  had  obtained 
was  purely  negative,  and  he  intended,  so  far  as  he  could,  to 
make  it  positive.  He  did  not  feel  justified  in  saying  any 
thing  to  Hilda  of  the  love  which  had  only  fully  asserted 
itself  in  his  heart  when  the  idea  entered  that  some  one  else 
might  claim  her.  He  was  not  quite  twenty  years  old  ;  she 
was  only  about  seventeen ;  the  money  left  him  by  his  father 
was  enough  amply  to  educate  him,  and  to  help  him,  with 
some  economy,  for  a  year  at  least  after  his  education  should 
be  finished ;  but,  until  he  could  prove  his  ability  to  win  his 
way,  and  make  a  definite  start  upon  the  path  to  success,  he 
had  no  right  to  entangle  any  one  else  in  his  destiny;  and 
this  he  felt  yery  strongly,  and,  until  within  the  past  few 
days,  he  had  imagined  that  he  would  be  quite  content  to 
wait.  But  he  found  it  was  one  thing  to  wait  with  the 
knowledge  that  Hilda  was  still  a  school-girl,  secluded  from 
general  society,  and  quite  another,  under  the  circumstances 
which  he  had  been  imagining,  since  he  noticed  the  ring. 
And  he  had  begun  to  debate  with  himself  whether  he  might 
not,  without  transgressing  his  code,  say  something  which, 
while  it  would  reveal  his  own  feelings,  and  pledge  him  to 
her,  would  leave  her  entirely  free.  The  more  he  thought  of 
this,  however,  the  more  difficult  he  found  it  to  frame  the 
exact  speech  he  would  like  to  make,  and  at  last  he  resolved 
to  take  Doris  fully  into  his  confidence,  and  ask  her  to  keep 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  133 

him  posted,  during  his  long  absence,  as  to  the  dangers  which 
threatened  his  suit  to  Hilda  ;  then,  if  he  should  have  any 
real  cause  for  alarm,  he  resolved  to  risk  refusal,  or  the 
tediousness  of  a  long  engagement,  and  speak,  no  matter  how 
distant  the  prospect  of  their  marriage  might  be.  So  that 
evening,  when  Doris  and  he  were  wandering,  arm  in  arm,  up 
and  down  the  avenue,  he  dropped  foils  and  mask,  and  came 
boldly  to  the  point,  with — 

"Doris,  can  you  tell  me,  without  betraying  confidence, 
the  history  of  that  curious  ring  which  Hilda  wears  on  her 
engagement-finger  ?  " 

"I  can,  Leonard,"  said  Doris,  in  tones  so  serious  that 
Leonard,  who  could  not  see  her  laughing  eyes,  felt  his  heart 
sink  suddenly;  "it  is  a  sort  of  pledge— perhaps  it  would  be 
too  much  to  call  it  a  'gage  cT amour,'  as  we  say  in  French, 
but  it  was  given  to  signify  that  she,  of  the  seven,  would  be 
the  first  to  marry." 

Dead  silence  on  Leonard's  part. 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  continued  Doris,  her  affec 
tion  for  Leonard  conquering  her  desire  to  torment  him  a 
little  ;  "  it  is  the  ring,  my  dear  brother,  which  Hilda  found 
in  her  piece  of  cake  on  the  night  of  the  Twelfth-night 
party,  of  which  I  gave  yon,  I  believe,  a  full,  true  and  partic 
ular  account,  the  day  after  your  arrival ;"  and  Doris,  no  longer 
attempting  to  conceal  her  feelings,  laughed  with  such  child 
like  delight  that  Leonard  felt  constrained  to  join  in  her 
laughter. 

"  You  are  the  same  elfish  creature  that  you  were  before 
you  tucked  up  your  hair  and  put  on  long  skirts,"  he  said, 
recovering  his  voice ;  "  but  I  don't  care  a  farthing,  miss — 
you  may  laugh  to  your  heart's  content — now!  Only  when 
you  have  quite  finished,  I  am  going  to  take  you  into  my 
confidence,  unworthy  of  it  as  you  are,  and  ask  a  favor  of  you 
beside." 


134  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  Oh,  then  I  have  quite  finished  now  !"  said  Doris,  eagerly, 
"only,  my  dear  boy,"  and  here  her  laughter  bubbled  up 
afresh,  "  if  you  think  you  haven't  been  taking  me  into  your 
confidence,  with  your  well-selected  remarks  and  carefully- 
careless  questions,  you  must  have  a  very  low  opinion  of  my 
intellect ! " 

"  Now,  Doris,"  said  Leonard,  pleadingly,  "please  don't 
make  game  of  me  any  more,  for  indeed  you  can't  imagine 
how  much  in  earnest  I  am.  I  am  quite  willing  to  admit  that 
I  have  been  making  a  fool  of  myself  for  the  past  three  or 
four  days,  but  you  don't  know  how  I've  been  feeling.  I 
didn't  know  myself,  at  all,  that  I  cared  for  Hilda  in — in  that 
way,  you  know,  till  I  saw  the  ring  on  her  engagement-finger, 
and  you  can't  think  how  miserable  I  have  been,  for  I  felt  at 
once  that  with  my  rather  distant  prospect  of  fame  and  for 
tune,  I  had  no  right  even  to  try  to  find  out  whether  or  not 
she  cared  for  me.  And  don't  imagine  that  that  is  what  I'm 
after  now — I  hope  I  am  above  any  such  business  as  that — but 
I  do  want  to  ask  a  great  favor  of  you,  dear — one  that  I 
neither  would  or  could  ask  of  any  one  else  in  the  world. 
May  I?" 

"  Dear  Leonard,"  said  Doris,  affectionately,  and  as  soberly 
as  the  most  exacting  confidante-seeker  could  have  wished, 
"  you  know  you  can,  without  asking.  There  io  nothing  that 
you  would  ask  of  me,  that  I  should  not  at  least  try  to  do 
for  you.  Don't  you  believe  that  ?  " 

"  I  do,  you  dear  little  woman !  and  what  I  want  is  nothing 
impossible,  or  even  very  difficult.  I  think  Hilda  is  more 
intimate  with  you  than  she  is  with  the  other  girls — you  seem 
to  meet  of  tencr  than  the  rest  do,  and  you  know  all  about  her 
daily  life.  Now,  as  I  said,  I  have  no  right,  with  such  remote 
prospects,  to  try  to  bind  her  in  any  way.  I  tried  to  think, 
for  a  while,  that  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  bind  myself 
and  leave  her  free,  but  I  soon  saw  that  was  folly — a  woman 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  135 

so  intensely  and  proudly  honorable  as  she  is,  would  feel  more 
bound  by  an  understanding  like  that,  if  she  could  bring  her 
self  to  care  for  me,  than  she  would  by  an  absolute  promise. 
Don't  you  think  so  yourself  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Doris,  thoughtfully.  "You  have  read  her 
very  well,  Leonard ;  she  would  not  allow  you,  if  she  cared 
for  you,  to  consider  yourself  pledged,  unless  she  were  fully 
as  much  so.  And  somehow — I  may  be  mistaken — but  I 
think  I  know  Hilda,  and  I  am  afraid  she  would  not  bo 
happy  under  a  long  engagement.  I  have  noticed,  ever  since 
I  was  old  enough  to  think  about  it,  that  whatever  she  plans 
to  do  she  likes  to  do  promptly.  Anything  like  suspense  or 
delay  seems  to  fret  her  almost  intolerably.  I  don't  mean  that 
she  is  fretful  outwardly,  or  peevish,  or  anything  like  that;  but 
I  can  see,  from  the  expression  of  her  face,  how  it  wears  on 
her.  And  honestly,  Leonard,  I  could  not  tell  you,  if  I 
would,  whether  or  not  she  cares  a  pin  for  you  except  as  a 
very  good  friend  and  pleasant  companion.  We  have  talked 
about  such  things  sometimes — I  suppose  all  girls  do  more 
or  less — and  she  has  always  expressed  the  most  withering 
contempt  for  women  who  allow  themselves  to  think  of  a 
man  in  that  way  until  he  has  unequivocally  asked  them  to. 
She  threw  down  a  story  we  were  reading,  right  in  the 
middle,  and  couldn't  be  induced  to  go  on  with  it,  just 
because  the  heroine — who  was  rather  soft,  I  admit,  but  a 
pleasant  creature,  after  a  fashion — was  breaking  her  heart 
for  a  man  who  had  only  made  a  few  eyes  at  and  pretty 
speeches  to  her !  She  evidently  scorned  us  all  for  caring  to 
finish  the  story.  So  you  see,  you  never  will  know,  till  the 
time  comes  when  you  feel  free  to  ask,  and  that  will  be  so 
long  to  wait,  ever  so  many  things  may  happen  in  the  mean 
time." 

"I   know,"   said    Leonard,   sadly—"!    acknowledge   the 
reasonableness  of  all  you  say,  dear,  but — I  love  her.     And 


136  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

this  is  what  I  want  you  to  do :  to  tell  me  if  you  see  any 
danger  approaching — if  you  see  any  one  trying  to — to  in 
terest  Hilda — to  tell  me  at  the  very  first,  before  the  danger 
becomes  real,  and  then  I  will  risk  everything,  and  try  my 
fate ;  and  if  she  should  accept  me — though  1  don't  dare  to 
hope  much  that  she  will— I  will  double  my  efforts  to  make 
the  time  of  waiting  short.  But  I  will  only  speak  if  there  is 
real  danger — otherwise,  I  will  wait  until  I  have  at  least  made 
a  start,  and  have  a  fair  prospect  of  success.  Will  you  do 
this  for  me,  Doris,  dear  sister  ?  " 

"I  will,  gladly,"  replied  Doris,  "and  I  wish  I  could  do 
much  more.  I  love  Hilda  dearly,  and  I  think  she  loves  me, 
and  it  would  make  me  very  happy  to  have  her  for  a  sister, 
Leonard.  And  I  think  you  will  be  much  more  likely  to 
succeed,  with  that  hope  before  you,  than  you  would  be  with 
out  it.  You  may  reasonably  hope  to  be  'under  way'  in  five 
years  from  now,  and  that  is  not  long.  Why,  just  think  how 
many  years  it  is  since  you  came  to  live  with  us,  and  it  seems 
as  if  it  might  have  been  last  year!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Leonard,  "  when  I  think  how  busy  I  shall  be, 
I  try  to  believe  that  the  time  will  go  quickly.  And  I  have 
been  thinking  lately  about  all  the  long  time  that  Jacob 
served  for  Kachel,  and  how  'it  seemed  but  a  few  days,  for 
the  love  he  bore  her/  Nothing  ought  really  to  seem  hard  to 
me  when  I  think  of  Hilda." 

Doris  neither  knew,  nor  tried  to  know,  how  Leonard 
managed  to  convey  to  Hilda  the  fact  that  he  knew  all  the 
circumstances  attending  her  possession  of  the  ring,  but  it 
was  quite  evident,  in  a  few  days,  that  they  had  returned  to 
their  former  friendly  footing.  And  through  all  the  rest  of 
Leonard's  holiday  Hilda  neither  sought  nor  shunned  him, 
but  she  seemed  happy  in  his  society,  and  frankly  expressed 
her  regret  at  his  departure. 

It  seemed  to  Doris  that  she  missed  him  more,  this  time, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  137 

than  she  had  ever  done  before.  Their  talks  had  gradually 
grown  more  serious  and  full  of  purpose,  and  the  sympathy 
which  she  felt  for  him  about  Hilda. had  drawn  them  even 
more  closely  together.  He  had  very  high  ideas  of  what  his 
profession  would  demand  of  him,  and  a  sort  of  steadfast 
enthusiasm  for  it,  apart  from  the  aspirations  awakened 
by  his  love  for  Hilda.  Doris  saw  clearly  that,  even  should 
all  his  hopes  in  that  direction  end  in  defeat  and  fail 
ure,  he  would  still  go  steadily  on  in  the  path  which  he  had 
marked  out  for  himself,  and  allow  his  disappointment  to 
affect  only  his  own  life.  His  character  had  developed  very 
rapidly  in  the  past  year,  and  the  development  had  all  been 
in  the  right  direction.  And  when  she  saw  the  firm  resolu 
tion  with  which  he  adhered  to  his  purpose  not  to  speak  to 
Hilda  of  his  love  for  her  before  he  left  her  for  another  year, 
respect  equaled  love. 

Miss  Eobeston  came  back  early  in  September,  and  her 
seven  scholars  entered  upon  their  last  year  at  school.  But 
she  tried,  more  than  ever,  to  make  them  feel  that  their  edu 
cation  was  beginning,  rather  than  ending.  They  all  meant 
to  keep  on  with  certain  of  their  studies  after  leaving  school, 
and  several  of  them  asked  Miss  Robeston  to  mark  out  a 
course  of  historical  reading  for  them,  and  to  make  a  list  of 
general  reading  besides.  Now  that  the  school  for  the  negroes 
was  taken  out  of  their  hands,  those  who  were  following  some 
special  study  devoted  themselves  to  it  more  zealously  than 
ever.  Doris  usually  managed  to  secure  four  hours  a  day  for 
practising,  and  her  improvement,  after  a  few  weeks,  was  so 
marked  as  to  greatly  encourage  her.  She  still  heard  from, 
and  wrote  to,  Mr.  San  ton  at  rather  long  intervals,  and  his 
letters  always  contained  valuable  suggestions  and  kindly 
encouragement.  Her  playing  and  singing  gave  great  de 
light  to  Antoinette;  and,  busy  as  she  was,  she  managed, 
once  or  twice  a  week,  to  spend  an  afternoon  or  evening 


138  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

with  her  invalid  friend,  "the  name  of  whose  chamber  was 
peace,"  and  she  always  came  away  humbled  and  strength 
ened — humbled,  as  she  saw  the  heights  to  which  Antoinette 
had  attained,  and  strengthened  by  the  thought  that,  if  she 
herself  "yet  persevered,"  she  too  might  reach  those  un 
troubled  heights,  leaving  behind  the  small  vexations  and 
annoyances  which,  with  her  ardent  temperament,  she  now 
felt  so  keenly,  as  the  traveler,  pushing  steadily  up  the 
mountain-side,  leaves  behind  the  belt  of  cloud  and  mist. 

The  work  of  emancipation  among  the  slaves  was  going 
quietly  and  peacefully  on.  Most  of  the  planters  were  help 
ing  and  instructing  them  to  make  the  best  use  of  their  free 
dom,  and  the  feeling  of  affection  between  servants  and  mas 
ters  was,  in  many  instances,  so  great  that  the  latter  remained 
in  their  old  homes,  with  but  little  change  in  their  mode  of 
living,  preferring  to  receive  the  continued  use  of  their  houses 
and  allotments  of  land,  and  their  rations  and  clothing,  to 
giving  all  these  up  for  a  fixed  sum  in  money.  Mr.  Camp 
bell's  slaves  were  among  this  number,  and  when  he  found 
the  distress  with  which  the  older  ones  looked  forward  to 
being  obliged  to  find  home  and  support  for  themselves,  he 
assured  them  that,  while  all  who  wished  to  make  the  change 
would  of  course  be  free  to  do  so,  he  would  continue  to  sup 
port  the  old  and  feeble,  and  that  none  of  them  would  be 
obliged  to  leave  their  homes.  In  this  way  they  scarcely 
realized  the  change  that  was  going  on,  and  still  less  did  they 
realize  another  and  more  startling  change  which  was  also 
in  progress.  Certain  evil-minded  people  from  the  English 
islands,  whether  from  the  hope  of  securing  plunder  or  power 
cannot  now  be  known,  began  quietly  to  sow  the  seeds  of  dis 
content  among  the  negroes,  suggesting  to  them  that  they 
were  wronged  by  this  slow  and  gradual  emancipation,  and 
that  they  had  a  right  to  immediate  and  general  freedom. 
The  more  faithful  and  attached  among  them  at  first  refused 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  139 

to  listen  to  this  counsel,  but  gradually  the  leaven  worked, 
and  the  few  who  remained  steadfast  found  themselves  in  the 
minority,  and  in  many  instances  were  obliged  to  conceal 
their  real  feelings,  and  at  least  appear  to  join  the  movement. 
Months  passed  before  their  cunning  advisers  permitted  the 
negroes  to  make  any  overt  demonstration,  but  there  was  a 
sort  of  feeling  of  thunder  in  the  air,  especially  upon  those 
plantations  where  the  slaves  were  least  kindly  and  consid 
erately  treated ;  and  even  upon  places  such  as  Mr.  Campbell's 
and  those  of  his  immediate  friends,  a  change  was  felt  rather 
than  seen.  "Work  was  neglected  or  badly  done,  insubordina 
tion  was  frequent,  and  grumbling  and  complaint  still  more 
frequent.  The  planters  found  a  decrease  both  in  their  profits 
and  their  comfort,  but  still  the  cloud  hung  suspended,  and 
did  not  break. 

Doris,  absorbed  in  her  studies,  and,  when  free  from  them, 
happy  in  her  home  life  and  the  daily-increasing  loveliness  of 
her  baby  sister,  saw  and  felt  nothing  of  this  depressing  in 
fluence.  The  house-servants,  while  they  were  afraid  to  raise 
any  protest  among  their  own  people,  remained  faithful  in 
their  feelings  and  in  their  work,  and  with  the  field-hands 
she  had  but  little  to  do.  So  another  winter  and  spring 
passed  busily  and  happily  away,  and  her  last  year  at  school 
was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  close.  But  few  of  her  girl  friends 
had  been  so  entirely  secluded  from  general  society,  at  her 
age,  as  she  was,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  had  been  obliged  to  with 
stand  a  great  deal  of  coaxing  and  pleading,  in  keeping  to  her 
resolve  not  to  let  Doris  "  come  out "  until  she  was  seventeen, 
and  had  stopped  going  to  school.  The  birthday  would  be 
on  the  IGth  of  July,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  was  preparing  to 
give  a  large  entertainment,  on  that  night,  to  introduce  her 
older  daughter  to  society.  Doris  had  urged  upon  Leonard 
the  importance  of  being  at  home  in  time  for  this  great  event, 
and,  much  to  her  satisfaction,  he  arrived  two  or  three  days 


140  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

beforehand,  and  actively  superintended  the  hanging  of  the 
Chinese  lanterns  in  the  trees  around  the  house,  and  from  the 
roof  of  the  veranda.  The  stone  piazza  was  lighted  by 
groups  of  candles  in  the  glass  globes  which,  because  of  the 
many  open  doors  and  windows,  were  used  universally  to 
screen  candles  from  the  strong  draughts  of  air.  Doris's 
pretty  white  gown  was  all  ready ;  it  had  not  occurred  to  her 
that  she  would  need  any  ornaments  beside  the  flowers  in  her 
hair  and  at  her  throat,  but,  on  the  morning  of  her  birthday, 
she  found  upon  her  plate  a  case  containing  a  full  set  of 
pearls — necklace  and  pendant,  bracelets,  and  a  string  for  her 
hair.  Her  mother  and  father  had  sent  to  England  for  them, 
and,  as  they  were  the  first  jewelry,  save  the  "stick,"  and  her 
pretty  watch  and  chain,  that  she  had  ever  owned,  she  was 
greatly  delighted  with  them. 

"When  Theo  is  seventeen,  she  must  have  emeralds, 
mamma,"  said  Doris,  laughing,  out  of  the  lightness  of  her 
heart,  as  she  fastened  the  pearls,  and  tried  to  make  the  baby- 
sister  look  at  them  ;  "  she  is  so  very,  very  fair  that  she  will 
look  perfectly  lovely  in  them — you've  only  to  wait  fifteen 
years,  not  quite  that,  either,  baby,  for  your  emeralds  !  What 
a  long,  long  time  that  seems,  mamma,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"It  does,  looking  forward,  darling,"  replied  Mrs.  Camp 
bell,  "but  it  does  not  seem  long  to  me  since  you  were  Theo's 
age ;  and  when  you  are  thirty-two,  and  she  is  seventeen,  it 
will  not  seem  long  to  you." 

"Oh,  mamma!  that  sounds  so  old  and  dignified!  I  won 
der  how  it  will  feel." 

"Not  so  very  dreadful,  I  hope,"  said  her  mother,  laugh 
ing;  "you  know  I  will  be  thirty-eight,  next  fall,  and  I  really 
don't  think  I  feel  so  old  as  I  did  when  I  was  twenty." 

"Oh,  you  are  never  to  grow  old,  mamma!"  said  Doris, 
affectionately ;  "  I  shall  pretend,  to-night,  that  you  are  my 
beautiful  sister,  just  a  year  or  two  older  than  I  am  myself." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  141 

And  indeed,  when  Mrs.  Campbell  and  her  daughter  came 
down  to  the  drawing-room,  just  before  their  guests  began  to 
arrive,  Doris's  "pretend  "  would  not  have  been  a  difficult  one 
for  anybody.  Mrs.  Campbell's  fair  skin  and  hair,  and  large 
blue  eyes,  together  with  the  sweet,  untroubled  expression  of 
her  face,  made  her  look  much  younger  than  she  really  was, 
and  if  Doris's  head  had  not  been  well-ballasted  by  common- 
sense  and  her  unusually- thorough  education,  it  might  easily 
have  been  turned,  that  night,  by  the  flattering  speeches 
which  she  shared  with  her  mother,  as  they  stood  together 
at  the  end  of  the  long  drawing-room  to  receive  the 
guests. 

It  was  not  until  quite  late  in  the  evening,  when  it  was  no 
longer  probable  that  there  would  be  any  more  arrivals,  that 
Doris  was  released,  and  began  to  fulfil  the  engagements  to 
dance  with  which  her  card  was  filled.  She  enjoyed  dancing 
heartily ;  but,  in  these  days  of  "  hops,"  where  round-dancing 
is  freely  engaged  in  by  young  girls  and  men  who  have  no 
knowledge  of  each  other  save  their  names,  the  more  dignified 
and  stately  dances  of  that  day  would  no  doubt  be  considered 
"awfully  slow."  They  danced  quadrilles  and  country- 
dances,  and  at  many  of  the  more  private  entertainments  even 
the  more  careful  among  the  mothers  permitted  waltzing ;  but 
Mrs.  Campbell  had  her  own  ideas  about  this,  as  about  a 
number  of  things  in  which  she  differed  from  her  friends  and 
acquaintances,  and  Doris's  intimacy  with  and  entire  faith  in 
her  mother,  made  it  impossible  for  them  to  differ  upon  a 
subject  like  this. 

So  Doris  had  resolved,  before  any  temptation  had  made 
resolution  more  difficult,  to  dance  only  square  dances,  and 
her  father  and  Leonard  both  laughingly  assured  her  that, 
whenever  she  pined  for  a  waltz,  they  would  be  most  happy 
to  play  partners,  while  Mrs.  Campbell  played  upon  the 
piano. 


142  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

It  was  not  the  custom  in  Santa  Cruz,  at  this  time,  to  in 
vite  the  younger  members  of  families  without  their  elders, 
but  none  of  the  younger  ones  seemed  to  look  upon  this  fact 
as  a  constraint,  or  imposition.  The  merriment,  no  doubt, 
was  less  boisterous  and  demonstrative  than  it  is  where  all  are 
young  together,  but  it  was  none  the  less  genuine  and  de 
lightful,  when  young  girls  came,  each  with  her  own  mother 
and  father,  instead  of  being  consigned  by  the  half-dozen  to 
the  care  of  a  nominal  cbaperone.  To  Doris,  every  pleasure 
in  which  her  mother  shared  was  doubled,  and  all  her  more 
intimate  friends  had  the  same  feeling. 

Gay  talk  and  laughter  echoed  that  night,  under  the  trees, 
where  the  Chinese  lanterns  and  colored  lamps  made  a  "  fairy- 
garden,"  almost  as  light  as  day,  and  where  the  young  people 
promenaded  with  their  partners  after  every  dance.  Doris 
often,  in  after  years,  recalled  among  other  bright  recollec 
tions  of  that  happy  evening,  the  feeling,  which  she  then 
scarcely  realized,  of  being  surrounded  by  near  and  loving 
friends.  There  were  few  present  who  had  not  known  her 
from  babyhood;  in  all  the  homes  which  these  friendly  faces 
represented  she  was  a  dear  and  welcome  guest ;  the  younger 
members  were  her  playfellows  and  companions,  the  older 
ones  felt  a  warm  and  affectionate  interest  in  her  future.  No 
wonder  smiles  and  laughter  were  so  ready  and  spontaneous  ; 
she  had  yet  to  feel  the  first  cold  blast  from  the  air  of  the 
outer  world. 

Many  times  that  evening  she  was  congratulated  upon  the 
success  of  all  the  arrangements,  and  laughingly  referred  the 
congratulators  to  her  mother  and  father.  A  brass  band,  con 
cealed  in  a  bower  of  palm-branches  at  one  end  of  the  draw 
ing-room,  made  "  eloquent  music ; "  the  floor  was  in  perfect 
condition  for  dancing;  the  smooth,  dry  walks  among  the 
trees,  swept  clean  as  the  dancing-floor,  afforded  ample  space 
for  the  promenaders ;  the  refreshments,  although  at  this  date 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  143 

they  would  be  much  too  simple  for  a  company  of  the  sort, 
were  considered  ample  then ;  tea  and  chocolate,  cakes  of 
several  kinds,  with  guava  and  other  jellies  and  preserves, 
fruit,  and  confectionery.  A  pretty  table,  shining  with  glass 
and  silver,  was'spread  in  one  of  the  verandas,  and  several 
servants  attended  it ;  here,  from  time  to  time,  the  young 
cavaliers  brought  their  dancing-partners,  for  such  refresh 
ment  as  they  chose.  Leonard  was  indefatigable  in  waiting 
on  any  who  chanced  to  be  overlooked,  in  finding  partners 
for  the  "  wall-flowers,"  or,  if  unable  to  do  this,  serving  in 
that  capacity  himself,  and  his  bright  face  and  pleasant  voice, 
here,  there,  and  everywhere,  contributed  far  more  than  he 
imagined  to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening.  It  was  late  before 
the  last  carriage  drove  away,  but  Doris  was  far  from  sleepy. 
Her  eyes  shone  with  pleasant  excitement,  and  she  begged  for 
a  few  minutes,  "just  to  talk  it  all  over." 

"  I  can't  take  it  in  at  all,"  said  Leonard,  with  pretended 
mournfulness ;  "  she's  a  young  woman  now,  aunt,  and  I  sup 
pose  I  shouldn't  dare  even  to  tickle  her  again,  for  in 
stance  ! " 

Doris  turned  slowly  round  in  front  of  the  mirror  in  the 
pier,  admiring  the  soft  folds  of  her  first  train,  or  rather  of 
her  first  really  "  grown-up  "  gown. 

"Of  course  you  shouldn't,"  she  said,  gravely;  "you  should 
behave  to  me  now  precisely  as  you  do  to  your  aunt,  and  Mrs. 
Santon,  and  Mrs.  Ufling — shouldn't  he,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  rather  more  consistent  for  him  to  behave 
as  he  does  to  Hilda,  and  Jeanie,  and  the  rest  of  the  septette?" 
said  Mrs.  Campbell,  smiling  at  Doris's  airs. 

"  Well — yes,  mamma,  perhaps  it  would,"  she  admitted  ; 
"I  was  thinking  that  being  grown  up  made  me  just  as  old 
as  you!  But  isn't  it  queer — until  this  morning,  I  felt  as  if 
I  were  only  sixteen,  and  a  school-girl  yet ;  and  now,  all  of  a 
sudden,  I  seem  to  be  a  whole  year  older,  and  I  feel  as  if  I 


144  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

had  crossed  a  bridge  which  had  immediately  broken  down 
behind  me,  so  that  I  cannot  possibly  get  back  again,  even  if 
I  should  want  to !  But  I  don't  suppose  I  shall,  fortu 
nately." 

"  Doris ! "  exclaimed  her  father,  springing  up,  and,  with 
his  hands  about  her  waist,  propelling  her  in  the  direction  of 
the  door,  "  do  you  know  that  it  is  two  o'clock  ?  And  do  you 
think  we  will  permit  you  to  go  to  that  stupendous  affair 
next  week,  if  this  is  the  result  of  a  small  and  moderate 
one  ?  " 

"Oh  papa!  Don't  try  to  break  my  heart!  I'm  going, 
instantly ! " 

And  with  gay  good-nights,  she  was  gone.  But  her  mother 
and  father  looked  at  each  other  with  a  quick  glance  of  sym 
pathy.  Their  little  daughter  had  vanished,  and  here  was  a 
beautiful  young  woman  in  her  stead — a  very  loving  and 
lovable  one,  truly,  but  not  their  little  child. 


OHAPTEE    IX. 

THE  "  stupendous  affair  "  of  which  Mr.  Campbell  spoke 
was  a  ball  to  be  given  by  the  officers  of  the  war-vessel 
then  stationed  in  the  harbor— the  "King  Christian."  This 
vessel  was  about  to  be  relieved,  her  year  in  the  harbor  having 
expired ;  and  the  officers,  who  had  received  much  kindly 
hospitality  from  the  islanders,  had  been  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  the  relief,  to  make  some  slight  return.  They  had 
arranged  to  give  a  ball  on  the  night  before  their  departure, 
on  board  their  own  ship,  but  orders  had  come  which  obliged 
them  to  leave  a  day  sooner  than  they  had  anticipated,  and 
the  officers,  not  being  able  to  reach  in  time  all  to  whom  invi 
tations  had  been  sent,  hastily  transferred  their  preparations 
to  the  newly  arrived  ship,  and,  after  a  hurried  consultation, 
added  one  more  feature  to  their  entertainment,  which  would 
give  it  the  air  of  having  been  carefully  planned,  instead  of 
disturbed  by  the  unexpected  order. 

Some  of  the  younger  officers  had  intimated,  weeks  before, 
what  might  be  expected  before  they  sailed,  and  there  had 
been  a  flutter  of  joyful  anticipation  among  the  very  young 
girls.  To  those  who  had  been  a  year  or  two  in  society, 
affairs  of  this  sort  were  no  novelty,  for  they  were  frequently 
given;  to  those  just  entering,  however,  it  seemed  a  wildly 
romantic  and  delightful  thing,  and  absorbed  their  thoughts 
and  conversation  whenever  three  or  four  of  them  happened 
to  meet. 

Doris  had  expected  to  wear  again  the  pretty,  simple  white 
gown  provided  for  her  "coming-out,"  and  was  quite  content 
to  do  so,  and  well-pleased  with  the  idea  of  making  a  little 
7 


146  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

change  in  her  appearance  by  changing  the  ribbons,  and 
wearing  different  flowers.  But  her  mother  knew  that  all  the 
other  girls  were  to  be  provided  with  new  and  especially  hand 
some  dress  for  this  entertainment;  she  was  still  young  enough 
to  remember  very  vividly  her  own  feelings  on  occasions  of  the 
kind;  and,  although  she  had  never  been  inordinately  fond  of 
clothes,  she  had  enjoyed,  as  every  girl  does,  the  knowledge 
that  she  was  prettily  and  appropriately  dressed.  She  knew 
that  the  soft  white  fabric  which  Doris  had  worn  that  first 
delightful  evening  had  lost  a  little  of  its  first  freshness,  and 
that  the  sea-air,  to  which  on  the  night  of  the  officers'  ball 
it  would  be  so  much  exposed,  would  finish  its  demoralization 
before  the  close  of  the  evening. 

Among  her  own  wedding-gifts  was  some  very  beautiful 
black  lace;  she  had  worn  it  but  little,  and,  }roung  as  she  still 
was,  she  cared  nothing  for  society,  being  thoroughly  ab 
sorbed  in  the  duties  and  pleasures  of  her  home,  and  did  not 
wish  to  keep  the  lace  for  the  faint  possibility  that  she  might 
ever  wear  it  again.  She  expected  to  go  out  more  now,  than 
had  been  her  habit  for  some  years,  as  chaperone  for  Doris, 
but  on  these  occasions  a  handsome  silk  would  be  most  ap 
propriate  ;  and  beside,  she  was  tempted  by  a  vision  of  her 
"little  woman "  in  the  black  lace,  with  red  roses  in  her  hair 
and  at  her  throat,  the  dark  eyes  shining,  and  the  deep, 
bright  color  of  cheeks  and  lips  looking  deeper  and  brighter 
by  contrast  with  her  dress.  The  lace  was  soft  and  clinging, 
with  no  stiffness  to  lose,  and,  made  over  some  light  gauzy 
black  material,  would  drape  the  lithe  young  figure  most  be 
comingly. 

When  Doris  was  called  for  the  first  "  trying-on,"  her  pleas 
ure  and  gratitude  were  pleasant  things  to  see. 

"Oh  mamma!"  she  exclaimed,  throwing  her  arms  about 
her  mother's  neck,  "  am  I  really  to  have  that  lovely  lace  for 
my  very  own — to  wear  it  on  Thursday  evening  ?  But  it  was 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  147 

grandpa's  wedding  present  to  you — ought  you  to  give  it  away  ? 
Can't  you  wear  it  again  yourself  ?  " 

"  You  are  really  to  have  it  for  your  very  own,"  replied  her 
mother,  smiling,  and  kissing  her  fondly,  "and  you  are  to 
wear  it  on  Thursday  evening,  and  I  ought  to  give  it  away  to 
my  older  daughter,  if  it  will  give  her  pleasure ;  and  I  can't 
wear  it  again,  with  any  comfort,  for  I  have  resolved,  for  a 
long  time,  always  to  dress  a  little  in  advance  of  my  age, 
rather  than  below  it,  and  a  dress  such  as  I  am  having  made 
for  you,  would  be  altogether  too  young-ladyish  for  me.  Now 
are  you  satisfied,  little  madame  ?" 

"  Not  quite,  mamma,"  said  Doris,  doubtfully,  "  for  I  never 
like  to  hear  you  talk  about  your  age  in  that  way ;  and  be 
side,  Mrs.  lifting  told  you,  the  other  day,  that  you  are  begin 
ning  to  be  quite  too  elderly  in  your  dress,  Now,  don't  you 
see  how  lovely  this  lace  would  look,  used  as  a  trimming  for 
black  silk?" 

And  Doris  bunched  a  yard  of  flouncing  against  her  black 
silk  apron. 

"  And  don't  you  see,"  replied  her  mother,  calling  her  at 
tention  to  the  pieces  spread  out  upon  the  bed,  "  that  it  is  so 
arranged  that,  when  it  is  properly  made  up,  the  foundation 
scarcely  shows  at  all  ?  And  would  you  have  me  waste  good 
black  silk  by  covering  it  up  in  that  manner  ?  No,  my  little 
daughter ;  I  have  had  one  pleasure  from  my  beautiful  lace — 
'  more  than  one,  indeed — and  now  I  shall  have  another,  in 
seeing  it  upon  you,  and  if,  when  Theo  comes  out,  you  are  an 
old  married  woman,  quite  settled  and  staid,  perhaps  you  will 
be  contriving  a  dress  out  of  it  for  her,  as  I  am  now  doing 
for  you  ;  for,  just  think !  when  Theo  is  eighteen,  you  will  be 
nearly  thirty- three  ;  not  so  very  many  years  younger  than  I 
am  now — can  you  realize  that  ?  " 

"I  don't  believe  I  can,  mamma,"  said  Doris,  thoughtfully; 
"  it's  very  silly,  I  know,  but  I  always  fancy  Theo  sort  of 


148  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

catching  up  with  me,  and  our  being  nearly  the  same  age, 
and  going  everywhere  together.  And  indeed,  I  didn't  refuse 
the  dress  because  I  shouldn't  love  to  have  it — I  shall  care 
more  for  it  than  for  anything  I  have  ever  worn,  just  because 
of  it's  being  dear  grandpa's  gift  to  you,  and  because  you  have 
had  some  lovely  times  in  it,  before  it  came  to  me.  But  you 
mustn't  be  disappointed  with  the  way  I  look  in  it,  -Mrs. 
Mother — you  must  have  been  too  beautiful  for  anything, 
when  you  were  my  age.  If  I  didn't  feel  so  sure  as  I  do  that 
I  am  your  very  ownest  daughter,  I  should  think  I  was  a 
changeling,  put  into  the  cradle  by  a  spiteful  brownie,  who 
stole  the  fair  little  baby  that  belonged  there." 

It  had  been  a  great  disappointment  to  Doris,  whenever  she 
had  stopped  to  think  about  it,  that  she  bore  so  little  resem 
blance  to  her  fair  and  beautiful  young  mother.  She  admit 
ted  that  her  father  was  handsome  and  distinguished-looking, 
but  maintained  that  that  made  no  difference  — what  was  very 
becoming  in  a  man  was  quite  the  reverse  in  a  woman,  and 
that  beside  she  was  that  most  painful  of  all  resemblances, 
"  a  homely  likeness  "  of  her  father.  This  she  had"  been  told 
when  she  was  very  young,  and  it  had  made  a  lasting  impres 
sion  on  her.  Upon  her  coloring  and  great  play  of  expression 
depended  much  of  the  beauty  of  her  face,  and,  even  had  she 
been  devoted  to  her  mirror,  which  she  was  not,  she  would 
have  obtained  little  or  no  idea  of  how  she  really  looked. 

Her  bright,  sweet  smile,  and  ever-varying  expressions  of 
interest  and  sympathy,  made  a  real  beauty,  one  that  would 
increase,  rather  than  diminish,  with  advancing  years.  Theo 
was  her  mother  in  miniature,  and  Doris  declared  that  she 
looked  as  if  she  were  made  of  "  snow  and  sunshine." 

The  soft  loopings  and  folds  of  the  black  lace  dress  were 
caught,  here  and  there,  with  small  bunches  of  some  very 
real-looking,  pale,  pink  May  roses — a  box  of  beautiful  and 
most  natural  artificial  flowers  had  just  come  to  Mrs.  Camp- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  149 

bell  from  a  friend  in  Paris,  and  she  advised  Doris  to  use 
some  of  them  in  this  way,  as  real  ones  would  fade  and  fall 
before  the  close  of  the  evening.  She  could  wear  the  real 
roses  in  her  hair  and  at  her  throat,  where  they  would  not  be 
crushed,  but  in  the  narrow  space  which  the  ship  would 
afford  for  the  large  number  of  guests  invited,  flowers  about 
a  skirt  would  stand  a  poor  chance  of  survival  till  the  even 
ing  should  be  over. 

There  was  no  moonlight  on  the  night  of  the  "great 
event,"  but  the  large,  lustrous  stars  of  the  tropics  almost 
made  up  for  the  absence  of  the  moon.  The  air  was  soft  and 
cool,  and  the  skilful  rowers  raised  and  lowered  their  oars 
almost  without  a  sound,  as  they  rowed  the  guests  in  relays 
out  into  the  harbor,  where  the  "King  Christian"  and 
"  Thekla  "  were  anchored,  not  far  apart.  It  was  easy  to  see, 
even  from  the  shore,  that  the  latter  was  to  be  the  scene  of 
the  festivities.  Lamps  and  candles  in  colored  globes  were 
hung  wherever  hanging-room  could  be  found  ;  glossy  wreaths 
of  myrtle  and  bay,  and  banks  of  flowers  and  greenery,  hid 
all  unsightly  objects ;  soft  notes  of  music  from  a  skilfully- 
concealed  brass  band  floated  over  the  water,  and  set  little 
feet  in  eager  motion  before  the  deck  was  reached.  Eefresh- 
ments  of  every  procurable  kind  were  lavishly  provided  ;  a 
wide  space  on  the  snowy  deck  was  left  entirely  clear  for  the 
dancers,  while  comfortable  seats  for  those  who  could  not  or 
would  not  dance  surrounded  the  dancing-floor,  so  that  those 
who  did  not  participate  might  at  least  have  the  full  benefit 
of  a  view  of  those  who  did. 

The  whole  arrangement  was  pronounced  "  simply  perfect," 
and  this  verdict  did  not  come  from  the  novices,  to  whom 
most  things  seemed  perfect,  alone— the  mothers  and  aunts 
and  older  sisters,  whose  opinions,  based  upon  experience, 
carried  more  weight,  warmly  agreed  with  the  praises  of  the 
"  young,  young  things;"  and  not  the  least  pleasant  feature 


150  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

of  the  entertainment  was  the  pleased  and  smiling  look  upon 
almost  every  face,  for  the  officers,  who  really  had  worked 
hard  to  make  it  successful,  were  gratified  with  the  warm 
appreciation  of  their  efforts ;  and  although,  in  some  few  in 
stances,  regret  at  leaving  the  Island  counteracted  the  pleasant 
anticipation  of  going  home,  most  of  the  men  were  rejoicing 
in  the  prospect  of  meeting  once  more  the  dear  ones  from 
whom  they  had  been  separated  for  a  year,  and  had  no  need 
to  assume  cheerful  faces  for  the  occasion. 

All  Doris's  schoolmates  were  there,  and  they  drew  together, 
as  they  came  on  board,  in  a  delighted  little  group,  sure  of 
sympathy  from  each  other  in  their  pleasure.  All  were  pret 
tily  and  becomingly  dressed,  but  Hilda,  as  the  rest  agreed, 
looked  "  simply  queenly."  She  was  dressed  in  soft,  creamy 
lace,  which,  in  the  changing  light,  looked  more  like  foam 
than  any  earthly  texture ;  a  turquoise  necklace,  and  a 
narrow  coronet  of  turquoise  beads,  surrounded  by  tiny 
diamond  sparks,  were  all  her  ornaments,  save  a  bunch  of 
blue  flowers  at  her  throat.  Her  abundant  fair  hair  was 
arranged  with  severe  simplicity,  showing  the  fine  outline  of 
her  head,  and  the  unusual  excitement  of  the  evening  had 
brought  a  faint  rose-color  to  her  usually  pale  cheeks.  She 
was,  unquestionably,  the  most  beautiful  woman  present,  but 
no  consciousness  of  this  showed  in  the  fair,  proud  face.  Her 
dancing-card  could  readily  have  been  filled  three  times  with 
the  names  of  eager  aspirants,  before  she  had  been  half  an 
hour  on  the  ship;  her  party  had  arrived  a  few  minutes  be 
fore  that  which  included  Doris  and  Leonard,  and  when  the 
latter  at  last  succeeded  in  working  his  way  to  her  through 
the  ever-increasing  throng  of  acquaintances  and  friends,  it 
was  only  to  find,  to  his  intense  chagrin,  that  she  was  engaged 
for  every  dance  but  one.  There  was  nothing  to  be  said ;  his 
reason  told  him  that,  under  the  circumstances,  she  could  not 
possibly  have  excused  herself  from  accepting  the  various  in- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  151 

vitations  which  filled  her  card,  by  stating  that  she  was  look 
ing  every  moment  for  her  friend,  Mr.  Leonard  Campbell, 
and  that  she  must  keep  a  few  dances  for  him.  He  sup 
pressed  the  words  of  protest  which  rose  to  his  lips,  but 
something  of  all  that  was  in  his  mind  must  have  manifested 
itself  in  his  face,  for  the  delicate  color  in  her  cheeks  was 
deepened  a  little  when  he  gave  her  back  the  card  and  little 
gold  pencil,  having  inscribed  his  name  with  unmistakable 
clearness  after  all  the  rest. 

"  There  is  nothing  like  experience  for  giving  one  wisdom, 
Miss  Hilda,"  he  said,  lightly;  "shall  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  you  at  Mrs.  Barrett's  little  dance,  next  Tues 
day?" 

"Yes,  I  hope  to  be  there."  she  replied,  "if  mamma  should 
not  be  unable  to  go ;  she  is  easily  tired,  and  I  know,  although 
she  would  not  own  it,  that  she  is  making  a  great  effort  in 
being  here  to-night." 

"  She  has  such  a  cheerful  face  and  voice,"  said  Leonard, 
"that  one  can  scarcely  realize  that  she  is  ever  anything  but 
perfectly  comfortable.  I  sincerely  hope  that  she  may  be  no 
worse  for  this  exertion,  both  for  her  sake  and  my  own.  May 
I  have  the  honor  of  dancing  the  first  dance  at  Mrs.  Barrett's 
with  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  remember  to  claim  it  before  some  one  else  asks  for 
it — yes!"  said  Hilda,  laughing  a  little;  "but  the  interval 
will  be  quite  long  enough  to  permit  you  to  forget,  and  as  for 
myself,  I  shall  make  a  memorandum  of  it  when  I  go  home 
to-night." 

"  That  will  be  very  kind ;  and  while  you  are  doing  so,  will 
you  add  to  your  kindness  by  putting  me  down  for  the  third 
and  fifth  also  ?  You  see,  I  have  had  a  memorable  lesson  to 
night  on  the  vanity  of  human  wishes,  and  I  shall  try  to 
profit  by  it." 

She  hesitated  for  an  almost  imperceptible  moment,  and 


152  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

then  said,  in  the  light  tone  in  which  both  had  been  speak 
ing: 

"How  can  you  expect  me  to  remember  so  much,  in  this- 
dazzling  scene  ?  Be  content  if  I  recollect  to  put  you  down 
for  the  first  and  third  dances. " 

One  of  her  numerous  partners  came  just  then  to  claim  her, 
and  Leonard  saw  her  no  more,  save  at  a  distance,  until  the 
dance  for  which  he  had  engaged  her  took  place.  He  had 
been  grumbling  to  himself  for  some  time  about  the  quiet, 
sisterly  friendliness  of  her  manner,  but  he  liked  still  less  the 
laughter  and  light  raillery  with  which  this  evening  she  met 
the  least  approach  to  sentiment  on  his  part.  And  he  some 
how  connected  her  present  mood  with  the  devoted  attention 
of  a  remarkably  handsome  young  Danish  officer — who  be 
longed,  as  he  remembered  with  much  displeasure,  not  to  the 
"King  Christian,"  but  to  the  "Thekla."  This  Lieutenant 
Jansen  had  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mrs.  Ufling. 
He  came  of  a  wealthy  Danish  family,  and  had  received  a 
liberal  education  in  Europe.  He  was  tall  and  striking- 
looking,  with  a  very  pleasant  voice  and  manner,  and  he 
openly  singled  out  Hilda,  from  the  time  she  came  on  board. 
Perhaps  it  was  only  a  jealous  fancy,  but  it  seemed  to  Leonard 
that,  while  Hilda  neither  did  nor  said  anything  in  the  least 
degree  forward  or  unladylike,  she  in  nowise  discouraged 
Lieutenant  Jansen. 

The  evening  grew  intolerably  long  and  wearisome  to  him, 
and  he  was  thankful  when  some  of  the  older  members  of  the 
company  began  to  suggest  that  it  was  high  time  to  return. 

There  was  much  friendly  leave-taking  between  the  people 
of  the  Island  and  the  officers  of  the  "King  Christian,"  but 
all  the  last  words  were  at  last  said,  thanks  and  good  wishes 
and  some  few  promises  to  write  were  interchanged,  and  the 
boats  put  off — one  little  fleet  for  the  shore,  and  the  other  for 
the  vessel  about  to  depart.  As  the  officers  reached  the  lat- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  153 

ter,  there  was  a  sudden  blaze  of  light  from  every  yard-arm  of 
the  ship,  answered  at  once  by  similar  illuminations  on  the 
"Thekla"  and  at  the  fort;  blue  lights,  rockets,  and  Roman 
candles  seemed  to  fill  the  air,  making  the  bay  almost  as  light 
as  at  noonday,  but  with  a  weird,  elfland  light,  indescribably 
strange  and  beautiful.  The  illumination  was  kept  up  until 
the  "King  Christian"  rounded  the  point  and  was  lost  to 
sight,  leaving  a  memory  behind  her  which  would  not  soon 
fade  from  the  minds  of  any  of  the  spectators. 

Doris  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  as  they  drove  home 
from  the  landing  through  the  first  faint  light  of  dawn,  too 
happy,  as  well  as  too  tired,   to  care  to  talk.     The  evening 
had  been   one  of  unmixed  delight  to  her,  and  she  was  en 
deavoring  to  recall  and  fix  in  her  memory  every  moment  of 
it,  from  her  first  glimpse  of  the  "  Thekla,"  as  they  stood 
waiting  for  the  boat,  to  the  last  of  the  "King  Christian," 
when  the  fairy-lights  vanished  around  the  point.    The  popu 
larity  she  had  enjoyed  that  evening  had  been  of  a  more 
satisfying  nature  than  that  of  Hilda's  undoubted  conquest. 
The  sweet,  bright  look  on  Doris's  face,  better  than  any  mere 
beauty  of  feature,  had  seemed  to  make  a  friendly  atmosphere 
about  her.     The  younger  officers  had  sought  her  out,  and, 
as  they  moved  through  the  measured  paces  of  the  dance,  had 
talked  confidingly  to  her — those  who  had  just  come,  of  their 
homesickness   and  lonely  feeling  among  so   many  strange 
faces,  and  those  who  were  about  returning,  of  their  joyful 
anticipations.     Doris  was  learning  the  secret  of  happiness 
more   and  more,  with   each   advancing  day — "  a  heart  at 
leisure  from  itself."     She  had  been  quick  to  see,  that  even 
ing,  where  little  unobtrusive  words  and  acts  would  add  to 
the  pleasure  of  another;  and  it  is  surprising,  when  the  sight 
is  cleared   in   this   direction,   how   much   there   is   to  see! 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to   imagine  that   anything   is  really 
small — 


154  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  The  pebble  in  the  brooklet  cast 
Has  changed  the  course  of  many  a  river." 

A  word,  a  look,  has  farther-reaching  influence  than  most  of 
us,  in  our  short-sightedness,  dream. 

Her  chief  object,  now,  in  recalling  all  the  impressions  and 
events  of  the  evening,  was  that  she  might  give  Antoinette  a 
detailed  account  of  it.  She  had  fallen  into  a  way  of  doing 
this,  solely  for  her  friend's  benefit ;  but  the  calm,  sweet- 
natured  comments  which  always  followed  her  narratives, 
Were  becoming  more  and  more  valuable  to  her.  Many  times 
she  found  perplexities  solved  and  doubts  answered,  for  in  the 
invalid's  secluded  life,  there  was  much  time  for  quiet 
thought.  Doris  had  no  triumphs  to  recount,  after  her  first 
ball.  She  had  danced  every  dance,  with  the  exception  of 
the  waltzes,  but  with  a  different  partner  each  time,  and 
nothing  even  approaching  a  flirtation  had  marked  the  even 
ing  ;  but  her  account  of  it  to  Antoinette  was  none  the  less 
joyous  and  glowing  because  of  this. 

"  I  really  feel  as  if  I  had  been  there,  Doris,"  said  the 
latter,  as  Doris  ended  her  description  with  the  disappearance 
of  the  "  fairy-ship  "  ;  "  you  ought  to  write  it  all  down,  just 
as  you  have  told  it  to  me,  for  I  have  noticed  that  the  sharp 
edges  of  our  recollections  wear  off  very  quickly,  and  it  would 
be  a  pity  for  you  to  forget  even  a  fragment  of  this." 

"  I  did  write  it  down,  this  morning,"  said  Doris.  "  One 
of  Miss  Anna's  many  valuable  suggestions  was,  that  we 
should  keep  very  brief  and  matter-of-fact  records  of  our  days ; 
she  said  it  was  a  good  thing,  from  many  points  of  view  ; 
one  often  wishes  to  remember  the  exact  date  of  an  event,  or 
the  exact  circumstances,  and  she  said,  beside,  that  it  was  a 
good  training  for  the  memory  to  recall  at  night  every  cir 
cumstance  of  the  day,  and  I  find  already  that  I  can  remem 
ber  with  far  less  effort  than  was  required  at  first.  She 
cautioned  us  particularly  against  writing  about  our  senti- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  155 

menfcs  and  feelings,  or  in  the  least  as  if  we  expected  anybody 
but  just  ourselves  ever  to  read  it,  either  before  or  after  our 
death,  and  we  all  agreed  to  print  on  the  outside  of  the  cover, 
<To  be  burnt  unread.'  We  bought  seven  plain,  strongly- 
bound  blank-books,  and  we  make  the  record  as  short  as 
possible.  Mamma  says  it  will  be  very  pleasant  reading,  some 
day,  for  those  of  us  who  live  to  grow  old,  and  I  think  it 
will." 

"How  many  things  Miss  Anna  thought  of!"  said  Antoi 
nette  ;  "  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  busier  she  was,  the  faster 
her  mind  worked.  I  wish  another  school  might  have  been 
found  for  her  here — I  hated  to  have  her  go,  and  I  had  not 
seen  half  as  much  of  her  as  you  other  girls  had,  either.  I 
don't  see  how  you  could  stand  it." 

"We  couldn't,  very  well,"  replied  Doris,  "but  then,  you 
see,  we  had  to  !  That  makes  a  great  difference  about 
standing  things,  doesn't  it,  'Toinette  ?  And  I  am  glad, 
since  she  did  go,  that  she  is  to  have  a  chance  at  so  many 
more  girls  than  she  had  here — you  know  she  is  to  be  Princi 
pal  of  a  large  boarding-school  for  girls  in  Philadelphia,  and 
she  will  not  be  one  of  those  stiff,  dignified  creatures  who 
only  walk  about  and  generally  supervise  ;  I  know  quite  well 
that,  before  she  has  been  there  a  month,  she  will  be  on  inti 
mate  terms  with  every  girl  of  them  who  will  let  her  be.  I 
sometimes  think  that,  if  I  only  knew  enough,  I  should  like 
to  teach — it  gives  one  such  lovely  chances  to  help  a  great 
many  people." 

"  You  do  know  enough,  and  more  than  enough— you  are 
always  underrating  yourself,"  said  Antoinette,  affection 
ately,  "and  I  think  you  would  make  a  beautiful  teacher, 
when  you  are  a  little  older,  only—  '  and  she  suddenly 
paused. 

"  Only  what ? "  said  Doris,  laughing.  "Go  on, 'Toinette ; 
don't  be  afraid,  you  will  not  hurt  my  feelings!" 


156  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"I  was  not  going  to  say  anything  very  bad,  dear;  but  I 
could  not  help  thinking  that  it  would  go  hard  with  you, 
because  you  throw  yourself  into  everything  with  such  force, 
and  sympathize  so  deeply,  and  often  fancy  people  are  suffer 
ing  as  you  would  suffer  under  similar  circumstances,  when 
probably  they  are  not  at  all." 

"I  know— mamma  said  something  like  that,  just  the 
other  day;  but  although  I  am  quite  convinced  that  it  is  true 
in  the  abstract,  I  never  can  apply  it  in  the  concrete  !  I 
would  not  say  it  to  any  one  but  mamma  or  you,  but  the 
night  Theo  was  so  terribly  ill— you  know  the  time— and  I 
saw  her  all  drawn  up  in  that  dreadful  convulsion,  with  her 
dear  little  face  working,  my  muscles  twitched  until  I  fell 
asleep,  and  I  was  almost  sure  I  should  have  a  convulsion, 
too.  And  when  I  heard  about  Glasgow,  sharp  shoots  of  pain 
went  all  over  me." 

"  I  know — and  that  is  one  reason  why  I  never  will  let  you 
see  me  when  I  am  having  a  bad  turn.  If  I  could  possibly 
help  everybody's  seeing  me,  I  would,  for  it  makes  the  suffer 
ing  double  to  know  I  am  inflicting  pain  on  other  people,  but  I 
do  believe  it  would  hurt  poor  mamma  worse  to  be  kept  away 
from  me,  at  those  times,  than  it  does  to  see  me." 

"  Of  course  it  would !  And  I  have  been  thinking,  lately, 
that  it  is  a  selfish  and  useless  way  to  be  sorry  for  people,  and 
I  mean  to  try  to  have  more  self-control.  I  sometimes  wish  I 
might  have  a  little  of  Hilda's  unrufflcable  calmness.  I  never 
saw  her  look  the  least  bit  excited,  before  the  evening  of  the 
ball,  and  even  then  it  would  not  have  been  called  excite 
ment  in  anybody  else— just  a  sort  of  flashing  in  her  lovely 
blue  eyes,  and  about  as  much  pink  on  her  cheeks  as  there  is 
on  the  inside  of  the  palest  of  the  conch-shells.  Oh,  she  did 
look  too  lovely  for  anything,  'Toincttc!  I  do  wish  you 
could  have  seen  her." 

"  I  wish  I  could — but  I  wish  still  more  that  I  could  have 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  157 

seen  you.  I  think  I  must  give  a  tea-party,  on  one  of  my 
well  days,  and  ask  you  all  to  come  in  your  ball-dresses,  that 
I  may  see  how  you  looked ! " 

"  What  fun  that  would  be !  Should  you  really  like  us  to 
do  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  should !  But  do  you  believe  that  the  girls 
would  be  willing  to  take  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  Why,  'Toinette,  how  can  you  doubt  it?  I  will  tell  them 
about  it,  and  then,  whenever  you  feel  well  enough,  you  can 
just  let  us  know  in  the  morning,  and  we  will  come  in  the 
afternoon  or  evening,  whichever  you  .like." 

The  girls  were  enthusiastically  willing,  when  Doris,  as  she 
had  opportunity,  spoke  of  the  plan  to  them.  They  all  loved 
Antoinette,  and  were  glad  of  a  chance  to  give  her  pleasure, 
and  there  was  no  great  hardship  in  arraying  themselves  in 
the  pretty  and  becoming  garments  in  which  they  had  spent 
an  evening  in  fairy-land.  But  for  some  time  after  this  visit 
of  Doris's,  Antoinette  was  much  worse  than  usual,  and  before 
the  plan  could  be  carried  out,  startling  events  drove  it  from 
all  their  minds. 

It  seemed  to  Doris  that  Leonard  was  less  cheerful  than 
usual,  after  the  ball,  and  although  he  said  nothing  on  the 
subject,  she  soon  saw,  or  fancied  she  saw,  the  cause.  Lieu 
tenant  Jansen's  attentions  to  Hilda  became  more  and  more 
marked,  and  Hilda  certainly  did  not  discourage  them. 

"Do  you  know,  Doris,"  said  Leonard,  one  evening,  after  a 
boating-party,  in  which  the  seven,  with  a  number  of  young 
cavaliers,  had  all  participated,  "do  you  know  what  Hilda 
made  me  think  of  this  evening  ?  Undine.  Has  she  really  a 
soul  under  all  that  ice,  I  wonder?" 

"  Indeed  she  has,"  said  Doris,  warmly,  "  and,  Leonard — I 
don't  mean  to  say  anything  unkind,  but  does  it  not  seem  to 
you  that  we  sometimes  doubt  whether  other  people  have 
certain  qualities,  simply  because  we  have  not  the  power  to 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

call  them  forth  ?  There  are  very  few  people  to  whom  Hilda 
reveals  her  real  self— she  is  the  most  intensely  reserved 
woman  I  know — but  I  can't  bear  to  hear  any  one  speak  in 
that  way  about  her,  when  I  know,  even  from  the  little 
glimpses  that  I  have  caught,  what  she  could  be  to  some  one 
able  really  to  awaken  her  soul.  You  are  not  angry  with  me, 
dear?" 

"Angry  with  you?  No,  my  dear  little  sister,  but  with 
myself,  yes,  and  I  am  afraid  with  Hilda,  and  also  with 
Lieutenant  Jan  sen.  And  I  am  not  sorry,  on  some  accounts, 
that  my  holiday  is  so  nearly  over." 


OHAPTEE    X. 

THE  planters  were  becoming  more  and  more  uneasy  and 
alarmed  by  signs  of  disaffection  among  the  slaves,  and 
appeals  had  recently  been  made  to  the  Danish  Government, 
which,  in  turn,  invited  aid  from  several  foreign  powers,  and 
the  result  was  the  quiet  appearance,  in  the  harbor,  of  war 
vessels  from  England,  the  United  States,  France,  and  Spain, 
bringing  soldiers,  to  be  in  readiness  in  case  of  an  uprising 
among  the  negroes.  So  many  vessels  were  coming  and  going 
that  this  does  not  appear  to  have  had  any  effect  as  a  warn 
ing  either  upon  the  instigators  of  the  rebellion  or  their 
tools ;  but  the  precaution  was  taken  none  too  soon. 

It  was  the  night  before  Leonard's  departure,  and,  as  the 
moon  was  nearly  full  and  the  weather  beautiful,  a  boating- 
party  in  the  harbor  had  been  hastily  arranged.  It  would 
have  been  impossible  to  fix  a  time  for  it  beforehand,  for  it 
was  during  the  hurricane  season ;  and  although  the  violent 
winds  blow  intermittently,  they  are  to  be  expected  at  any 
time,  and  all  out-door  engagements  must  be  more  or  less 
subject  to  them.  Hilda,  Jane,  and  Clara  had  been  collected, 
and  with  Doris,  and  Leonard  as  skipper,  comfortably  filled 
the  pretty  little  sail-boat,  of  which  Leonard  had  been  offered 
the  use  that  summer.  It  belonged  to  a  merchant-vessel, 
and  the  captain,  who  made  semi-annual  trips  to  the  West 
Indies,  was  always  hospitably  entertained  at  Mr.  Campbell's 
house.  There  was  a  light  wind,  and  the  water  was  still 
quite  rough  from  the  recent  gale,  but  they  were  all  good 
sailors,  and  the  moonlight  was  so  radiantly  clear  that  they 
lingered  longer  than  any  one  of  them  imagined.  It  so  hap- 


1GO  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

pened  that  no  one  carried  a  watch,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
them  to  make  any  accurate  guess  at  the  hour  when  all  were 
reluctant  to  return.  They  had  promised,  on  account  of  the 
uncertainty  of  the  weather,  to  keep  near  shore,  but,  by  skill 
ful  tacking,  Leonard  managed  to  take  tolerably  long  nights 
before  putting  the  boat  about.  They  sang  a  good  deal  of  the 
time,  and  Leonard's  choice  of  songs  showed  very  plainly,  to 
Doris  at  least,  the  direction  of  his  thoughts.  But  if  they 
revealed  it  to  Hilda  as  well,  she  was  certainly  an  admirable 
actress,  for  her  fair,  pale  cheek  remained  unflushed,  and  her 
full,  deep  voice  rang  out  without  a  tremor.  Leonard  was 
vexed  with  himself  for  the  disturbance  this  caused  him.  He 
had  indulged  in  an  unacknowledged  hope  that  his  "ice 
maiden "  would  show  some  little  sign  of  relenting  on  this 
his  last  evening  for  nearly  a  year,  and  would  give  him  some 
little  word  or  look  to  treasure  through  the  long  months  of 
his  absence.  With  the  proverbial  unreasonableness  of  people 
in  his  state  of  mind,  or  rather  heart,  he  ignored  the  fact  that 
he  had  given  Hilda  no  reason  to  treat  him  with  anything 
but  friendship.  To  a  woman  such  as  she  was,  only  the  most 
explicit  avowal  of  love  could  have  secured  an  admission  such 
as  he  longed  for;  "sighs  and  looks"  would  meet  with  no 
response,  or  rather,  the  response  they  would  call  forth  would 
be  anything  but  encouraging  in  its  nature. 

So  Leonard  sang  with  unusual  expression,  and  Hilda 
looked  quietly  off  over  the  silvery  waters  and  sang  with 
unusual  correctness  and  vigor,  and  Doris  watched  them 
both,  divided  between  equally  strong  desires  to  laugh  and  to 
cry. 

It  was  Jane  Barrett  who  at  last  suggested  that,  judging 
from  the  distance  the  moon  had  traveled  since  they  came 
out,  it  must  be  time  for  them  to  think  of  returning.  The 
others  reluctantly  admitted  the  force  of  the  argument,  and 
Leonard  once  more  put  the  boat  about.  As  he  did  so,  an 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  161 

exclamation  of  surprise  burst  from  all  their  lips.  They  had 
been  looking  away  from  the  Island  for  some  time,  but  now 
their  gaze  was  once  more  turned  toward  it,  and  they  saw 
that  the  sky  behind  it  was  reddened  as  if  with  a  fiery  sunset. 
Leonard  also  saw,  although  the  others  did  not,  that  all  the 
war  vessels  had  drawn  nearer  to  the  shore,  and  that  small 
boats  were  flying  through  the  water  with  furious  haste, 
while  a  fire,  evidently  kindled  as  a  beacon,  blazed  upon  the 
wharf.  He  spread  the  sail  to  catch  every  breath  of  wind, 
and  no  one  spoke  as  they  sped  across  the  silvery  expanse,  for 
all  saw  that  one  of  the  points  from  which  the  flame  and 
smoke  were  rising  was  in  the  direction  of  the  Campbell 
plantation. 

Doris  clasped  her  hands,  silent  with  terror  and  apprehen 
sion.  She  could  frame  no  words,  but  her  heart  was  one 
agonizing  prayer  for  the  safety  of  her  parents  and  sister. 
She  felt  a  faint  hope  that  it  was  earlier  than  they  had  imag 
ined,  and  that  her  mother  and  father  and  Theo  might  not 
have  returned  from  the  long  drive  upon  which  they  had 
started  just  as  the  boating  party  started  for  the  wharf.  But 
even  then,  would  any  one  part  of  the  Island  be  safer  than 
another  ?  She  feared  not ;  for,  as  they  neared  the  wharf, 
columns  of  flame  sprang  up  in  two  fresh  directions,  they 
heard  hoarse  shouting,  and  presently  a  discharge  of  mus 
ketry.  Then  there  was  silence,  so  far  as  the  voices  were 
concerned,  but  a  sound  of  tramping  feet,  and  presently  an 
other  discharge  of  the  muskets.  Still  no  one  in  the  boat 
spoke,  but  all  the  faces,  though  very  pale,  were  full  of 
courage  and  resolution.  Doris  alone  felt  any  doubt  as  to 
the  cause  of  what  they  heard  and  saw.  She  had  been  more 
shut  in  than  any  of  the  others  from  the  disturbing  rumors 
with  which  the  air  had  lately  been  rife.  Her  mother  and 
father,  made  sanguine  by  the  devotion  of  their  own  people, 
had  hoped  that  the  disaffection  among  the  slaves  might  be 


162  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

quelled  without  any  open  rupture,  and  had  been  careful  to 
avoid  all  allusion  to  the  subject  save  when  they  were  entirely 
alone.  In  this  way,  Doris  had  been  completely  hindered 
from  forming  any  adequate  idea  of  the  real  condition  of 
affairs,  and  she  had  a  confused  apprehension,  amid  these 
dreadful  sights  and  sounds,  that  some  foreign  power  must 
have  attacked  the  Island. 

The  Barretts'  plantation  adjoined  that  of  Mr.  Campbell  on 
one  side,  Mrs.  Ufling's  on  the  other;  so,  as  Leonard  moored 
the  boat  and  rattled  down  the  sail,  they  all  started  in  the 
same  direction.  Several  times,  on  the  way,  they  met  groups 
of  negroes,  with  frightened  faces,  running  so  rapidly  toward 
the  harbor  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  them  stop  and 
give  information  ;  so  they  heard  nothing  until  a  turn  in  the 
road  brought  all  three  plantations  wholly  or  partially  in 
view.  Then  their  worst  fears  were  confirmed ;  flames  were 
still  rising  from  the  buildings  on  each  one.  They  reached 
Mr.  Campbell's  first.  It  was  completely  deserted ;  the  "  great 
house"  was  a  black  and  smoking  heap  of  ruins,  while  all  the 
houses  in  the  quarters,  as  well  as  those  employed  in  sugar- 
making,  were  either  burned  or  burning.  While  the  girls 
and  Leonard  stood  gazing  in  consternation  too  great  for 
words,  a  man,  whom  they  at  first  took  for  a  negro,  hurried 
toward  them,  exclaiming — 

"  Oh,  thank  God  for  this !  I  can  bear  the  rest,  now  that 
you  are  safe ! " 

It  was  Mr.  Barrett,  but  his  face  was  so  blackened  by 
smoke  and  powder  that  only  his  voice  made  them  recognize 
him. 

Hilda  turned  to  him,  striving  to  speak,  and  although  her 
voice  refused  to  obey  her  will,  he  understood  at  once,  and 
replied  to  the  agonized  look  upon  her  face. 

"  Your  mother  is  safe  with  us,  dear  Hilda;  but  oh !  Leon 
ard,  where  are  your  aunt  and  uncle  ?  We  can  find  them 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  163 

nowhere,   and  cannot   even  find  any  one    who  has  seen 
them!" 

A  stifled  shriek  burst  from  Doris,  and  for  a  moment  she 
wavered  as  if  she  would  fall.  Leonard  threw  his  arm  about 
her,  but  she  recovered  herself,  and  said  faintly — 

"  I  am  not  going  to  give  way.  Where  did  you  look,  Mr. 
Barrett'?  " 

"At  all  the  near  plantations  where  the  soldiers  arrived  in 
time  to  save  the  buildings,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Barrett, 
sadly;  "but  the  last  that  I  could  hear  of  them  was  that  the 
carriage  was  seen  to  turn  in  at  the  gate  here,  just  as  the 
riot  began,  and  their  house  was  the  second  one  fired.  I  have 
been  to  see  all  the  blacks  that  have  been  captured,  and  a  few 
of  yours  were  among  them,  but  they  all  assured  me  piteously 
that  they  only  joined  the  rioters  because  of  awful  threats 
from  the  ringleaders,  and  that,  although  they  marched  and 
shouted  with  them,  they  neither  set  fire  to  any  of  the  build 
ings  nor  inflicted  injury  on  any  one.  But  one  of  them  asked 
to  speak  with  me  privately;  and  he  asserted,  and  stuck  to  it, 
that  Cud  joe  led  the  others  into  the  house,  and  was  more 
violent  than  any  of  them,  and  that,  when  he  was  last  seen, 
he  was  running  away  with  the  baby,  frantically  followed  by 
your  mother  and  father.  Then,  the  man  said,  your  house 
was  immediately  sacked  and  set  fire  to." 

The  look  of  terror  on  Doris's  face  changed  to  one  of  glad 
relief. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  Cudjoe  has  done  !"  she  cried,  joyfully. 
"  He  knew  that  would  be  the  only  way  to  get  papa  and 
mamma  and  Theo  off  safely,  and  he  has  hidden  them  some 
where.  I  know  it!  I  know  it!  Oh,  Leonard,  don't  you 
see?" 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Doris,"  replied  Leonard,  excit 
edly.  "Cudjoe  is  a  thoroughly  good,  faithful  fellow;  and  I 
suppose  he  saw  that  it  would  do  no  earthly  good  to  try  to 


164  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

make  those  wretches  listen  to  him,  so  he  took  that  way.  I 
think  we  had  better  wait  here  a  little,  for  I  am  pretty  sure 
he  will  come  back  to  find  us — or  rather,  I  will  wait,  and  you 
must  go  with  Mr.  Barrett.  You  don't  think,  do  you,  sir, 
that  there  is  any  danger  that  the  negroes  who  escaped  will 
rally  and  make  a  second  attack  to-night  ?  " 

"Not  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Barrett.  "The  ringleaders, 
including  the  men  from  the  other  islands  who  set  the  whole 
thing  going,  have  all  been  captured,  and  the  negroes  who 
are  still  at  large  will  be  too  frightened  and  demoralized  to 
try  it  again.  Besides,  don't  you  see  that  it  is  almost  day 
light  ?  It  was  like  the  cowards  to  make  their  attack  in  the 
dark,  and  when  they  thought  every  one  would  be  asleep. 
They  came  nearer  to  succeeding  than  they  know." 

"But  was  it  really  our  own  people?"  asked  Doris,  sorrow 
fully.  "  It  seems  too  dreadful  to  think  of.  I  thought  they 
all  loved  us  so!" 

"A  great  many  of  them  did,  and  do,"  answered  Mr. 
Barrett.  "As  I  said,  it  was  those  fellows  from  the  other 
islands  who  stirred  the  whole  thing  up,  purely,  as  I  believe, 
from  a  hope  of  plunder,  and  if  we  had  not  been  somewhat 
prepared  for  them,  the  whole  Island  would  have  been  sacked, 
and  not  a  house  left  standing  or  a  white  person  living." 

The  girls  shuddered  at  the  picture  conjured  up  by  these 
words,  and  then  Doris  yielded  reluctantly  to  the  persuasion 
of  all  the  others,  and  turned  from  the  ruins  of  her  loved 
and  beautiful  home  to  go  with  Mr.  Barrett  to  Mrs.  San  ton's 
plantation.  This  was  at  some  distance  from  the  town  where 
the  rioters  had  met  and  begun  their  work  of  destruction ; 
and,  owing  to  the  prompt  action  of  citizens  and  soldiers, 
was,  with  all  the  more  distant  plantations,  unharmed. 

There  was  an  arbor  in  the  garden,  thickly  covered  with 
running  vines.  It  stood  quite  apart  from  all  the  other 
buildings,  and  so  had  escaped  destruction.  As  they  were 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  165 

passing  this  Doris  stopped  suddenly,  exclaiming,  in  startled 

tones — 

"  There  is  some  one  in  the  arbor  I    I  am  sure  I  heard  a 

groan  ! " 

"  Never  mind  if  you  did,"  said  Mr.  Barrett.  "  I  suppose 
it  is  one  of  the  miscreants  who  helped  in  the  attack,  and  hid 
himself  there  rather  than  be  taken  prisoner.  I  will  find  one 
or  two  soldiers,  and  come  back  for  him  when  I  have  seen  you 
girls  safely  at  Mrs.  Santon's." 

"  But,  whoever  it  is,  he  must  be  suffering  dreadfully," 
said  Doris,  as  another  and  louder  groan  was  heard.  "  Dear 
Mr.  Barrett,  perhaps  it  is  one  of  our  own  people ;  please  let 
us  stop  and  see,"  and  she  made  a  step  toward  the  arbor,  but 
Leonard  held  her  back,  saying— 

"  Wait,  dear,  and  I  will  see  who  it  is,  and  if  help  is  needed, 
while  Mr.  Barrett  stands  guard  over  you ; "  and  he  ran 
quickly  up  the  steps  and  paused  at  the  entrance  to  strike  a 
light,  for  the  moon  had  gone  down  and  the  daylight  was 
still  very  faint. 

As  soon  as  he  had  succeeded  in  striking  a  light,  and  had 
stepped  within  the  arbor,  they  heard  him  call  excitedly— 

"  Doris !  Doris !     Come  quickly — it  is  Cudjoe ! " 

Doris  was  beside  him  in  a  moment,  and  by  the  light  of  a 
dry  twig  which  he  was  burning,  she  saw  poor  Cudjoe 
stretched  upon  the  floor,  evidently  in  great  pain,  and  con 
scious  only  of  that.  Mr.  Barrett  and  the  girls  had  followed 
her,  and  the  former  took  a  flask  from  his  pocket  and  forced 
a  few  drops  of  brandy  between  the  poor  boy's  ashy  lips, 
while  Doris,  pouring  a  little  in  her  hand,  chafed  his  palms 
and  temples.  There  was  no  blood  upon  his  clothes,  but  it 
was  plain,  from  the  drawn  and  haggard  look  of  his  face,  that 
he  had  been  suffering  terribly.  The  brandy  restored  him  to 
consciousness,  and  Doris,  who  was  bending  over  him,  saw  a 
look  of  joyful  recognition  as  he  caught  sight  of  her. 


166  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

"  Missy,"  lie  said,  feebly,  "  my  dear  little  Missy,  you  are 
safe.  Is  Mass' Leonard  here?" 

"  Here  I  am,  my  poor  fellow,"  said  Leonard,  taking  liis 
cold  hand,  "and  I  know  you  can  tell  me  where  aunt  and 
uncle  and  the  baby  are.  We  will  take  good  care  of  you." 

"  They's  all  safe,  Mass'  Leonard,"  said  Cudjoe,  reviving 
more  and  more  as  he  spoke.  "  They's  in  the  old  sugar- 
house,  where  the  young  ladies  had  school,  but  they's  hid  up 
behine  some  lumber;  and  I  asked  them  to  not  speak  till 
they  heard  Missy  or  you  or  me.  I  was  'fraid  some  of  the 
wicked  niggers  would  'tice  them  out  to  do  them  a  mis 
chief." 

Doris  bent  down  and  kissed  the  black  boy's  forehead, 
while  her  tears  fell  on  his  face.  His  honest  eyes,  beaming 
with  faithful  love,  looked  up  at  her  with  an  expression 
which  she  never  forgot. 

"  I  knew  Missy'd  be  glad,  but  I  never  thought  she'd  kiss 
a  poor,  ugly,  black  boy  like  me,"  he  said,  simply.  "  You 
sec,  Missy,  and  Mass'  Leonard,  I  knew  there  was  no  use  to 
talk  to  them  wicked  men,  so  I  whispered  one  or  two  of  our 
boys  what  I  meant  to  do,  and  told  them  to  whisper  the  rest 
as  they  had  a  chance,  and  as  soon  as  they'd  broke  into  the 
great  house  I  gave  a  big  howl,  and  caught  up  little  Missy,  and 
screeched  out  that  I'd  got  the  thing  our  white  folks  cared  the 
most  for;  and  then,  while  they  all  whooped  over  it,  I  told 
Mist'ess  how  it  was,  and  she  told  Mas'r,  and  then  I  ran,  but 
not  so  fast  they  couldn't  keep  close  behine  me,  and  they  ran 
after  me,  calling  to  me  to  give  back  the  baby ;  and  I  brought 
them  to  where  I  had  it  all  fixed  in  the  sugar-house,  and  hid 
them  safe  till  I  ran  to  call  the  soldiers.  I  did  hope  I  could 
get  help  in  time  to  save  the  great  house  anyhow;  but  they 
were  mad  with  rum,  and  there  was  no  holding  them  back, 
though  I  know  our  boys  tried  their  best,  so  all  I  saved  was 
the  silver  and  some  of  the  clothes.  I  gathered  them  up  as 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  1G7 

soon  as  you  all  were  out  of  the  house,  early  in  the  evening. 
You  believe  I  did  my  best,  Miss  Doris  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do,  dear  Cudjoe,"  said  Doris,  warmly,  "but " 

and  she  hesitated,  fearing  to  hurt  his  feelings,  "if  you  knew 
of  it  beforehand,  why  did  you  not  warn  us  ?  " 

His  eyes  grew  large  with  fright,  and  he  peered  anxiously 
about  him,  as  he  whispered — 

"  Missy,  I  didn't  dare!  You  don't  know  all  they  said.  I 
would  have  risked  it,  if  it  had  only  been  me,  but  they  said 
they'd  'witch  every  one  of  us,  the  women  and  little  children 
worst  of  all,  and  then  kill  the  0-be-ah  man,  so  that  nobody 
could  set  us  free,  and  we  were  so  scared,  we  all  had  to  pre 
tend  we'd  do  just  what  they  said.  They  couldn't  have  held 
us  any  other  way." 

This  was  a  complete  revelation  to  Doris  and  Leonard. 
They  knew  about  the  superstition  to  which  Cudjoe  referred, 
for  it  was  prevalent  among  nearly  all  the  negroes,  and  care 
ful  as  Mrs.  Campbell  had  been,  she  was  unable  to  prevent 
them  from  hearing  of  it;  it  was  the  belief  in  the  power 
which  an  evil-disposed  person  could  secretly  exercise  over  his 
victim  by  means  of  strange  charms  and  incantations,  and 
which  could  only  be  removed  by  the  0-be-ah  man,  who,  for 
money,  would  make  prayers,  burn  gums  and  herbs,  and  give 
medicines,  thereby  breaking  the  evil  spell.  But  Glasgow 
had  been  entirely  superior  to  this  and  all  the  current  super 
stitions,  and  Doris  and  Leonard  had  always  believed  his 
children-  to  be  equally  enlightened,  although  they  had  once 
or  twice  seen  reason  to  think  that  Hagar  secretly  shared  in 
them.  It  was  evident,  now,  that  Cudjoe  had  been  com 
pletely  und?r  this  evil  influence,  and  they  felt  no  surprise 
that  fear  had  kept  him  silent,  for  they  had  seen  too  many 
instances  of  the  unreasoning  terror  which  could  be  inspired 
among  the  negroes  by  any  of  their  fellows  who  chose  to  re 
sort  to  devices  of  this  sort. 


168  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Doris  questioned  Cudjoe  no  farther,  then,  but  she  resolved, 
very  earnestly,  to  conquer  this  dreadful  superstition,  both  in 
him  and  Pareen.  With  the  older  negroes,  as  she  knew  only 
too  well,  it  would  be  useless  to  make  the  attempt,  but  she 
reproached  herself  deeply  for  having  neglected  to  investigate 
the  subject  when  she  had  so  good  an  opportunity,  with  the 
younger  ones. 

Mr.  Barrett  and  Leonard  were  greatly  puzzled  as  to  what 
they  had  better  do.  In  spite  of  the  former's  assurance  to  the 
contrary,  he  still  felt  uneasy,  and  somewhat  fearful  that  a 
second  attack  might  be  attempted,  and  he  did  not  feel 
willing  to  leave  the  girls  alone  with  Cudjoe,  or  even  with 
Leonard  to  protect  them,  while  he  went  for  help,  or  to  allow 
Leonard  to  go  alone  to  the  town,  or  to  the  nearest  plantation 
which  was  not  deserted.  It  was  evident  that  Cudjoe  must 
be  very  carefully  moved,  and  even  then  the  risk  might  bo 
great,  and  it  would  be  better  not  to  have  the  girls  present 
when  the  attempt  should  be  made.  While  they  were  dis 
cussing  the  subject,  they  heard  steps  and  voices  at  a  short  dis 
tance,  and  Leonard,  going  a  little  way  up  the  path,  saw  that 
several  English  soldiers  were  surveying  the  ruin,  making  in 
dignant  comments  as  they  saw  how  total  it  was,  for  Mr. 
Campbell  was  widely  known,  and  very  highly  respected.  A 
call  from  Leonard  brought  them  quickly  to  the  arbor,  and 
three  of  them  agreed  to  stay  and  watch  with  Cudjoe,  and 
protect  him,  if  necessary,  while  a  fourth  went  to  the  town 
for  help,  and  to  start  an  inquiry  for  Doctor  Svensen,  being 
instructed  to  bring  the  doctor  with  him  to  superintend 
Cudjoe's  removal,  if  possible,  and,  if  this  could  not  be  done, 
to  leave  a  message  which  would  send  him  to  Mrs.  San  ton's 
plantation,  whither  Cudjoe  was  to  be  taken  as  soon  as  a 
litter  could  be  improvised,  and  the  messenger  return  to  lend 
his  help  in  carrying  it.  When  this  was  arranged,  Doris  and 
Leonard  bade  Cudjoe  good-bye  for  the  present,  and  started 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  169 

at  once  for  the  school-house,  while  Mr.  Barrett  went  with 
Hilda,  Jane  and  Clara  to  Mrs.  Santon's. 

The  excitement  had  been  so  great,  that  no  one  had 
thought  to  inquire  just  how  Cudjoe  received  his  hurt,  and  it 
was  not  until  they  were  all  assembled  at  Mrs.  Santon's  that 
they  heard  this  part  of  his  story.  He  told  it  reluctantly,  and 
evidently  without  any  conception  of  the  true  nobility  of 
character  which  he  had  displayed.  It  seemed  that,  when  he 
returned  from  secreting  his  master's  family,  and  endeavored 
to  farther  mislead  the  men  whom  he  so  feared,  by  a  show  of 
wild  and  boisterous  lawlessness,  one  of  the  latter,  less  drunk 
than  the  rest,  suspected  him,  and  calling  a  group  of  his  con 
federates,  questioned  him  closely  as  to  the  fate  of  the  baby 
and  its  father  and  mother.  But  to  all  their  questions  he 
gave  the  same  unvarying  answer,  with  dogged  firmness  and 
sullenness: 

"  The  white  folks  got  away,  and  hid  somewhars,  and  I 
came  back  here  to  see  the  rest  of  the  fun." 

In  vain,  now,  they  threatened  to  invoke  all  the  powers  of 
witches  and  devils  against  him  ;  it  did  not  occur  to  them  to 
include  his  family  in  their  threats,  and  so  he  stood  firm, 
deliberately  electing,  as  he  thought,  torments  which  he 
feared  far  more  than  death,  rather  than  betray  the  loved 
master  and  mistress,  and  the  helpless  baby  who  had  so  often 
smiled  and  stretched  out  tiny  arms  at  sight  of  him.  When 
they  found  that  their  former  mode  of  threatening  had  no 
longer  any  power  to  frighten  him,  or  at  least  to  coerce  him 
through  his  fright,  they  proceeded  to  try  the  effect  of  imme 
diate  and  physical  torment.  But  there  were  many  loyal 
negroes,  and  not  a  few  of  his  own  warm  friends,  in  that 
howling,  surging  crowd,  and  he  was  rescued  by  strategy,  and 
the  timely  arrival  of  a  squad  of  soldiers. 

One  of  the  ringleaders,  wild  with  drink,  and  utterly  reck 
less  of  anything  save  the  plunder  of  which  he  was  in  search, 
8 


170  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

had  just  returned  from  setting  fire  to  the  "great  house," 
after  a  final  and,  of  course,  fruitless  search  for  money  and 
plate,  and  the  idea  penetrated  his  fuddled  brain  that  Cudjoe 
had  hidden  the  valuables,  as  well  as  the  family. 

"  Whar's  a  rope?"  the  man  in  question  shouted;  "put  it 
round  his  neck,  and  if  he  don't  begin  to  tell  whar  he's  done 
hid  de  silber  and  gole,  string  him  up  ter  dis  tree ! "  • 

It  was  now  that  Cudjoe's  friend,  Congo,  saw  and  seized 
his  opportunity. 

"  Dat's  so,"  he  yelled.  "  Hang  up  de  traitor  ;  but  look 
yere,  you  boys  ;  gib  him  good  scare  fus',  den,  maybe,  he  tell. 
Fix  him  dis-a-way "  and  bustling  forward  with  appar 
ently  savage  eagerness,  Congo  took  the  rope  which  one  of 
the  men  had  produced,  and,  fastening  it  conspicuously  round 
Cudjoe's  neck,  dexterously  twined  it  under  his  arms  in  such 
a  way  that  the  twist  about  his  neck  should  support  none  of 
his  weight.  'Then,  climbing  a  tall  tree,  Congo  flung  the 
other  end  of  the  rope  over  a  bough,  and  down  to  the  eager 
hands  below,  shouting  : 

"Now,  boys,  h'ist  him  up,  and  when  he  gits  up  yere,  I'll 
ask  him  whar  de  tings  is,  and  you  see'f  he  don't  tell  ! " 

They  were  too  drunk  to  see  the  absurdity  of  this  plan, 
and  pulled  away  so  vigorously  that  Cudjoe  shot  up  into  the 
air  with  startling  rapidity,  and  but  for  his  friend's  precau 
tion,  must  surely  have  been  strangled  before  he  reached  the 
bough.  As  it  was,  the  rope  cut  him  painfully,  and  he  could 
scarcely  repress  a  groan.  His  would-be  executioners  had 
pulled  the  rope  tight,  and  were  about  to  fasten  it,  when  the 
tramp  of  many  feet,  and  a  cry  from  the  outside  of  the  crowd 
of  "De  soldiers  is  here,  boys,  run,  run!"  made  them  forget 
all  but  their  own  safety.  Dropping  the  rope,  without  a 
thought  or  care  for  their  victim,  they  ran,  hotly  pursued  by 
the  soldiers,  who,  in  the  darkness,  had  not  seen  the  pros 
trate  figure  on  the  ground,  nor  the  crouching  one  upon  the 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  171 

bough.  Cudjoe  was  very  large  and  heavy,  closely  resembling 
his  father  in  his  powerful  frame  and  great  strength  ;  one  leg 
doubled  under  him,  and  was  broken,  and  the  fall  completely 
stunned  him.  Congo,  paralyzed  with  fear,  waited  nearly  an 
hour  before  daring  to  creep  cautiously  down,  and  go  to  his 
friend's  assistance.  He  was  a  much  smaller  and  weaker  man 
than  Cudjoe,  and  it  was  only  by  almost  superhuman  exer 
tion  that  he  succeeded  in  half-dragging,  half-carrying  the 
helpless  and  insensible  man  to  the  arbor  where  his  friends 
soon  after  found  him.  Congo,  after  arranging  the  poor  fel 
low  on  the  floor,  with  a  pillow  of  small  boughs  and  leaves, 
started  cautiously  for  the  town,  hoping  that  by  this  time  it 
was  once  more  in  full  possession  of  the  whites,  and  that, 
upon  telling  his  story,  and  surrendering  himself,  he  could 
bring  or  send  help  to  his  friend.  He  was  an  honest,  faith 
ful  fellow,  but  much  less  intelligent  and  ready  than  Cudjoe, 
and  when,  as  he  crawled  silently  along  under  a  hedge,  three 
or  four  soldiers  suddenly  pounced  upon  and  sternly  ques 
tioned  him,  terror  completely  overcame  him,  and  his  con 
fused  and  hesitating  replies  to  their  questions  naturally  mis 
led  them.  They  tied  his  hands,  and  conducted  him  by  the 
nearest  way  to  the  lock-up ;  and  although  on  the  road  he  re 
covered  himself  sufficiently  to  tell  a  tolerably  straight  story, 
they  took  it  for  granted  that  he  had  made  the  whole  thing 
up,  and  sternly  refused  to  release  him.  But  his  pitiful 
pleading  that,  even  if  they  threw  him  into  prison,  they 
should  go  back  and  save  his  helpless  friend,  impressed  them 
in  spite  of  all  their  prejudices  ;  and,  after  they  had  seen  him 
safely  locked  into  a  cell,  they  agreed  to  go  back  and  see  if 
his  story  had  any  truth  in  it,  although  they  rather  laughed 
at  each  other  and  themselves  for  doing  so.  These  were  the 
soldiers  whom  Leonard  had  heard  and  called ;  and,  upon 
receiving  such  abundant  proof  of  the  truth  of  Congo's  story, 
they  returned  to  the  jail  next  day,  and  not  only  effected  his 


172  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

release,  but  made  up  between  them  a  small  sum  of  money,  to 
atone  to  him  for  his  unjust  imprisonment. 

It  will  readily  be  imagined  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell 
and  Doris  owed  more  to  Cudjoe  than  they  could  ever  repay, 
but  all  the  former's  offers  to  their  preserver  of  freedom  and 
a  handsome  start  in  any  business  he  might  choose,  seemed 
to  give  only  a  sort  of  wondering  pain. 

"  You  don't  really  want  me  to  go  away  and  leave  you  all, 
Missy,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked,  entreatingly,  the  first  time  he  was 
alone  with  Doris, 

"  The  last  thing  father  said  to  me  was  to  be  faithful,  to 
the  last  drop  of  my  blood,  to  Mass'  Campbell,  and,  indeed, 
I've  tried.  I'm  afraid  it's  because  he  thinks  I  ought  to  have 
given  warning,  but  if  you'd  heard  what  they  said !  I  didn't 
mind  about  myself,  or,  anyway,  I'd  have  taken  it,  mind  or 
no  mind,  but  they  said  if  we  dared  to  breathe  a  word  to  any 
of  the  white  folks,  that  they'd  kill  the  0-be-ah  man  first  of 
all,  and  then  put  a  charm  on  every  one  of  us,  and  they  said 
they'd  put  the  worst  on  the  women  and  children,  and  we'd 
have  to  stand  by,  and  see  it,  and  find  we  couldn't  raise  a 
hand  to  help  it.  And  I  thought  of  my  mother,  and  of  little 
Pareen,  so  slim  and  pretty  and  bright,  and  I  didn't  dare 
open  my  lips;  but  I  did  all  I  could,  without  their  finding 
out,  and  then,  after  all,  the  great  house  was  burnt." 

Large  tears  rolled  slowly  down  his  cheeks  as  he  spoke, 
and  he  stopped,  shaken  by  sobs  which  he  could  not  control. 

Doris  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own,  as  she  said  ten 
derly  : 

"Dear  Cudjoe,  do  you  think  the  house  is  anything  at  all, 
compared  with  our  lives  ?  You  did  what  you  believed  to  be 
the  very  best  you  could,  and  nobody,  not  even  the  wisest  and 
holiest  man  in  the  world,  can  do  more  than  that.  If  you  had 
not  got  mam  ma  and  papa  and  dear  little  Theo  off  in  that  clever 
way,  they  must  surely  have  been  killed.,  for  papa  had  not 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  173 

even  a  pistol,  and  those  people  were  just  like  fiends.  No, 
you  have  behaved  nobly,  and  you  must  not  let  yourself  think 
anything  else,  and  all  papa  wanted  to  do  was  to  give  you  a 
chance  to  be  happier  and  freer — you  shall  not  go  a  step,  if  you 
don't  wish  to,  you  may  be  very  sure  of  that!" 

"  Thank  you,  Missy,  you  were  always  good  to  me/'  said 
Cudjoe,  gratefully. 

Doris  repeated  what  he  had  said  to  her  father,  and  nothing 
more  was  said  of  his  leaving  them.  As  soon  as  he  seemed  really 
better,  Doris  cautiously  approached  the  subject  of  the  0-be-ah. 

"I  wish- you  would  tell  me,  Cudjoe,"  she  said,  "just  what 
it  was  that  you  were  afraid  of,  when  those  wretches  threat 
ened  you." 

Cudjoe  glanced  apprehensively  into  the  darkening  corners 
of  the  room,  for  the  short  tropical  twilight  was  nearly  over, 
and  no  light  had  as  yet  been  brought  in  ;  and,  enlightened 
as  he  was  in  many  ways,  he  had  all  the  negro's  childish  fear 
of  darkness. 

"Would  Missy  ask  to  have  the  candle  lighted,  please?"  he 
said,  uneasily;  "I  can't  hardly  see  her  face." 

When  his  request  had  been  complied  with,  and  Doris  had 
repeated  her  question,  he  slowly  and  reluctantly  answered  : 

"  You  see,  Missy,  if  they'd  killed  the  0-be-ah  man,  then 
they  could  have  put  any  bad  charm  they  liked  on  us,  and 
we  couldn't  have  had  it  taken  off,  like  we  can  now." 

"  But  what  sort  of  charm  ?"  persisted  Doris.  "What  hap 
pens  to  the  person  who  is  charmed  ?" 

"  Different  things,  Missy,  'cording  to  what  the  one  that 
charms  you  tells  the  spirits !  Sometimes  they  only  kill  the 
pigs,  and  blight  the  crops,  but  sometimes — Oh,  Missy,  please 
don't  tell!  Are  you  sure  no  one's  listening?  Mother  always 
said," — and  he  lowered  his  voice  to  an  almost  inaudible 
whisper — "  that  a  man  that  was  jealous  of  father  made  the 
spirits  roll  that  cask  on  him,  and  now  she  says  they've 


174  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

charmed  me,  just  as  the  captain  said  they  would,  and  if  I 
can't  get  the  charm  taken  off,  I'll  die,  and  she's  gone  to  the 
0-be-ah  man  to-night,  with  all  the  money  she  has,  to  have  it 
done.  But  Missy  won't  tell  I  told  her  ?  I  wouldn't,  if  any 
body  else  had  asked  me  to,  and — didn't  Missy  hear  that 
noise  by  the  door,  just  then  ?" 

He  started  up  in  bed,  his  eyes  bright  with  fever  and  ter 
ror.  Doris  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  saying,  soothingly : 

"It  was  only  the  wind  moving  the  shutter,  Cudjoe.  Lie 
down  again,  and  listen  to  me.  All  that  they  tell  you  about 
the  spirits,  is  false.  There  are  just  two  spirits  that  we  have 
anything  to  do  with— the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  which  puts 
good  and  beautiful  thoughts  into  our  hearts,  and  the  evil 
spirit  of  the  devil,  which  tempts  us  to  disobey  God,  and  do 
what  we  ought  not.  But  the  Holy  Spirit  is  far,  far  stronger 
than  the  spirit  of  evil,  and  if  we  pray  fervently,  and  trust  to 
Him,  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  anything  at  all,  for  even  if 
wicked  men  kill  our  bodies,  He  will  keep  our  souls  to  be 
happy  forever  with  Him.  Now  shut  your  eyes,  and  try  to 
sleep,  and  I  will  sing  you  the  evening  hymn  before  I  go. — 
Come,  Pareen,  come  in  and  sing  it  with  me." 

Pareen  was  sitting  just  outside  the  door,  and  she  came  in 
at  Doris's  bidding,  and  joined  her  rich  voice  to  the  clear  notes 
of  Doris's,  and  before  the  hymn  was  finished,  Cudjoe  was 
wrapped  in  peaceful  sleep. 


OHAPTEE     XI. 

IT  seemed,  at  first,  as  if  no  very  serious  consequences 
would  follow  the  rebellion.  The  ringleaders  had  all 
been  captured  and  punished  with  the  full  severity  of  the 
law,  and  then  it  was  deemed  expedient  by  the  Danish  Gov 
ernment  to  proclaim  freedom  at  once  to  all  the  slaves,  for 
the  seeds  of  discontent  and  rebellion  had  been  so  widely 
sown,  that  any  measure  short  of  this  might  have  led  to  a 
fresh  and  more  disastrous  attempt  by  the  negroes  to  gain 
the  upper  hand. 

The  buildings  had  been  destroyed  upon  a  number  of  plan 
tations,  and  much  damage  done  to  the  standing  crops,  but 
nearly  all  the  planters  had  money  in  bank,  or  invested  in 
England  or  Denmark  ;  beside  this,  payment  for  the  last  crops 
sold  had,  in  some  cases,  arrived  shortly  after  the  crushing  of 
the  rebellion,  so  that,  in  nearly  every  instance,  the  sufferers 
by  fire  found  it  possible  to  begin  rebuilding  at  once. 

Mr.  Campbell  erected  a  temporary  home,  barely  large 
enough  for  their  needs,  on  his  estate,  and  a  sort  of  barracks 
for  the  large  number  of  slaves  who  preferred  to  remain  in 
his  employ,  even  after  they  were  well  assured  of  their  free 
dom.  The  planters  were  further  assisted  in  the  work  of  re 
construction  by  the  payment  by  Government,  soon  after  the 
proclamation  of  freedom,  of  a  fixed  sum  for  each  slave.  The 
Government  also  fixed  the  price  which  the  negroes  were  to 
ask  for  a  day's  labor,  of  a  given  number  of  hours,  and  they 
were  made  with  no  little  difficulty  to  understand  that  they 
must  look  to  themselves  alone  for  their  entire  living  ex 
penses—  houses,  food,  clothing,  the  care  of  the  sick,  both  by 


176  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

nurses  and  doctors,  must  all  be  provided  now  out  of  their 
daily  wages,  and  these  wages  would  not  come  without  daily 
work.  A  few  of  the  more  industrious  and  intelligent  negroes 
entered  upon  the  new  life  with  "spirit  and  understanding 
also  ;"  these  were  the  ones  who,  in  former  times,  had  worked 
diligently  and  conscientiously  for  their  masters,  and  so  found 
time  for  work  for  themselves,  when  their  daily  tasks  were 
finished.  Many  of  them  had  enough  money  laid  by  to  pur 
chase  a  small  piece  of  ground,  and  build  a  rude  house,  and 
to  such  as  these  freedom  was  an  unmixed  blessing. 

But  for  one  of  this  class  there  were  numbers  who  were 
either  idle  and  worthless,  or  who  seemed  to  imagine  that  a 
living  would  be  provided  for  them,  should  they  fail  to  make 
it  for  themselves.  These,  in  the  first  wild  joy  of  their  free 
dom,  utterly  refused  to  work,  until  driven  to  do  so  by  actual 
want ;  and  it  was  some  time  before  this  was  the  case,  for  all 
had  a  sufficiency  of  clothing  to  last  for  several  months,  and 
nearly  all  a  little  hoard  of  money  which  provided  them  with 
part  of  their  food,  while  they  did  riot  hesitate  to  call  upon 
their  former  masters  and  their  more  provident  friends,  to 
make  up  the  deficiency.  This  sudden  cessation  of  work 
among  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  field  and  mill  hands  was  of 
course  most  disastrous  to  the  planters,  and  their  losses  in  this 
way,  added  to  those  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  rioters,  served, 
in  many  instances,  to  cripple  them  for  the  following  season. 

Leonard  was  full  of  grief  and  indignation  at  his  uncle's 
loss,  and  could  with  difficulty  be  persuaded  to  return  to  the 
United  States  that  year.  He  insisted  that  a  year's  postpone 
ment  of  his  plans  would  do  him  no  harm,  and  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  stay  and  do  all  in  his  power  to  help  his  uncle  to 
get  the  estate  once  more  into  running  order  as  speedily  as 
possible.  But  to  this  proposal  Mr.  Campbell  would  not  lis 
ten.  He  proposed,  he  said,  to  take  Doris  as  his  clerk  and 
accountant  for  a  few  months,  and  to  leave  the  young  man 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  177 

who  had  served  him  in  that  capacity  free  for  the  more  active 
duties  of  superintending  the  erection  of  houses  and  the  build 
ings  needed  for  the  sugar  plantation.  Dons  was  so  greatly 
elated  by  her  father's  choice,  and,  in  a  short  time,  so  fully 
occupied  by  her  new  duties,  that  she  found  little  time  to 
mourn  over  the  loss  of  the  many  beautiful  things  which  had 
helped  to  make  her  home  attractive.  The  one  loss  for  which, 
when  she  allowed  herself  to  dwell  upon  it,  she  was  really  in 
consolable,  was  that  of  Dirck.  He  had  disappeared  on  the 
night  of  the  riot ;  all  the  other  horses,  excepting  the  two 
which  had  drawn  the  carriage  that  evening,  had  likewise 
vanished ;  one  of  these  had  been  brought  back  by  a  friendly 
negro  some  days  later,  but  Dirck  had  not  returned. 

It  was  impossible  for  Leonard  to  sail  upon  the  appointed 
day,  for  all  his  belongings,  save  what  he  had  about  him 
and  the  few  things  Cud  joe  had  saved,  had  of  course 
perished  with  those  of  the  others.  But  another  vessel 
was  going  in  two  weeks,  and  for  this  he  made  hurried 
preparation.  In  these  days  of  ready-made  everything,  it  is 
difficult  to  realize  the  number  of  stitches  taken  at  home  forty 
or  fifty  years  ago,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  Pareen's  thorough 
training  as  a  needle-woman  and  her  faithful  diligence,  Leonard 
must  have  left  home  this  time  with  a  very  insufficient  ward 
robe.  Doris,  however,  could  not  help  being  amused,  not-' 
withstanding  her  deep  sympathy  for  him,  by  his  utter 
indifference  to  such  sublunary  matters  as  shirts  and  stock 
ings,  and  he  only  roused  himself  to  at  least  a  show  of  inter 
est  when  he  found  that  this  indifference  added  to  his  aunt's 
weight  of  care.  The  shock  to  Mrs.  Campbell's  nervous  sys 
tem  had  been  very  severe,  and  Doris  noticed  with  ever- 
increasing  anxiety,  her  mother's  failing  appetite,  and  the 
haggard  look  early  in  the  morning  which  told  of  disturbed 
and  often  sleepless  nights.  There  was  a  nervous  terror,  too, 
at  any  unusual  sound,  or  the  unexpectedly  long  absence  of 


178  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

those  who  were  dear  to  her,  so  entirely  unlike  her  former 
cheerful  serenity,  that  it  filled  her  husband  and  older  daugh 
ter  with  a  nameless  fear  and  apprehension. 

There  were  times  when,  seemingly  by  a  great  effort,  she 
rallied,  and  was  almost  as  bright  and  cheerful  as  she  had 
been  before  that  night  of  horror  and  suspense  ;  but  a  reac 
tion  always  followed  this  effort,  and  she  seemed  to  lose 
strength  day  by  clay.  Dr.  Svensen  was  called,  and  prescribed 
a  strong  tonic,  which  for  awhile  seemed  to  do  his  patient 
much  good,  but  it  soon  failed  to  take  effect,  and  he  told 
Mrs.  Campbell  frankly  that  a  long  sea  voyage  and  a  total 
change  of  scene  would  do  far  more  for  her  than  any  prescrip 
tion  which  he  could  devise.  Mr.  Campbell  urged  her  to 
take  her  two  daughters  and  make  a  long  visit  to  her  mother 
in  England,  engaging  to  have  the  new  house  ready  for  them 
against  their  return,  and  to  keep  himself  so  busy  in  their 
absence  that  he  would  not  have  time  to  miss  them ;  but  this 
she  gently  refused  to  do,  and  as  firmly  declined  to  allow  him 
to  trust  his  affairs  to  an  agent  long  enough  for  him  to  escort 
her  to  England,  and  see  her  safely  established  at  her 
mother's.  She  knew  that  his  absence  just  at  this  crisis 
could  not  fail  to  have  a  disastrous  effect  upon  his  affairs,  and 
for  their  children's  sake  more  than  their  own,  she  refused  to 
let  him  make  the  sacrifice,  and  run  the  risk  involved.  She 
would  be  better,  she  said,  when  the  hurricane  season  should 
be  over,  and  the  weather  settled  once  more.  They  were  all 
encouraged  by  her  active  interest  and  participation  in  the 
preparations  for  Leonard's  departure ;  but  when  these  were 
completed,  she  relapsed  into  the  weakness  and  listlessness 
which  had  so  alarmed  them. 

The  autumn  and  early  winter  passed  quietly  and  unevent 
fully,  in  a  calm  that  seemed  all  the  greater  for  the  storm 
that  had  preceded  it.  Doris  gradually  assumed  her  mother's 
duties  about  the  house,  or,  rather,  she  quietly  and  cheerfully 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  179 

took  up  the  new  and  far  more  arduous  ones  which  were  neces 
sitated  by  their  new  mode  of  life.  Their  temporary  home  was 
small  and  inconvenient  compared  with  the  old  one ;  the  furni 
ture  and  numberless  small  appliances  of  comfortable  living  were 
slow  in  arriving  from  England,  whence  they  had  been  ordered, 
and  a  great  deal  of  contriving  was  necessary  to  keep  the  family 
even  tolerably  comfortable.  Added  to  this,  was  the  total  change 
of  base  concerning  the  servants.  Although  most  of  Mr. 
Campbell's  house-servants  had  remained,  and,  as  a  general 
rule,  were  obedient  and  faithful,  it  was  out  of  the  question 
that  they  should  not  be  somewhat  influenced  and  changed 
by  the  storm  that  had  swept  over  the  Island,  and  by  the  talk 
which  they  constantly  heard  from  many  of  the  freed  slaves. 
Hagar,  Pareen,  and  Cudjoe  remained  perfectly  loyal,  and 
manifested  their  loyalty  by  such  devoted  and  intelligent  ser 
vice  as  largely  atoned  for  the  derelictions  of  the  others.  But 
Hagar  was  not  strong,  and  was  often  ailing ;  Cudjoe  had  not 
yet  fully  recovered  from  the  effects  of  that  terrible  night, 
and  Mr.  Campbell  was  anxious  to  spare  him  in  every  possi 
ble  way ;  while  Pareen  was  too  young  to  be  entirely  depended 
upon.  So  that  but  for  Doris's  watchful  and  thoughtful  care, 
many  an  annoying  omission  and  commission  would  have 
added  its  weight  to  that  which  already  pressed  too  heavily 
upon  Mrs.  Campbell.  The  burning  of  their  home  had  been 
a  far  more  cruel  trial  to  her  than  to  any  of  the  others,  and 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to.  feel  any  real  interest  in  the 
building  of  the  new  one — a  nervous  apprehension,  seldom 
expressed,  that  the  blacks  would  again  resort  to  violence, 
made  her  feel  a  great  longing  to  leave  the  Island  for  either 
England  or  America,  but  of  this  she  said  nothing  to  any  one, 
for  she  knew  only  too  well  that  her  husband's  absence  from 
the  estate  just  now  would  involve  him  in  heavy  loss,  if  not 
in  actual  ruin.  But  it  went  to  Doris's  heart  to  see  how 
every  unexpected  or  unusual  sound  startled  and  alarmed  her 


180  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

mother,  how  watchfully  apprehensive  Mrs.  Campbell  became 
if  her  husband  or  daughter  were  absent  from  her  long  or 
unaccountably,  and  with  what  lingering  tenderness  she 
kissed  her  children  good-night,  as  if  fearing  that  before 
another  morning  dawned,  some  terrible  fate  might  sunder 
them  from  her  forever. 

It  was  very  hard  sometimes  for  Doris  to  sustain  her  cheer 
fulness,  but  she  found  so  soon  that  the  slightest  discourage 
ment  or  despondency  on  her  part  had  so  immediate  an  effect 
upon  her  mother,  that  she  schooled  herself  to  suppress, 
rather  than  conceal,  all  that  would  cast  a  gloomy  shadow  on 
her  face.  And  now  it  was  that,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  she 
began  feebly  to  appreciate  that  Friend  to  whom  all  may  at  all 
times  and  in  every  place  go.  He  was  strong,  aye,  "  mighty 
to  save."  To  Him  she  might  pour  out  her  cares  and  fears, 
sure  of  instant  attention  and  sympathy,  and  real  and  "pres 
ent  help" — not  the  short-lived  and  often  ill-judged  help 
which  is  all  that  we  can  give  each  other  here,  but  the  help 
given  for  eternity  as  well  as  time ;  for  this  one  thing  she 
was  learning,  that,  of  ourselves,  we  know  not  what  to  ask, 
and  that  so  the  burden  of  every  prayer  should  be,  "Thy 
will,  not  mine,  0  Lord,  for  Thou  knowest." 

And  a  far  more  enduring  cheerfulness  was  taking  the 
place  of  the  fitfully  buoyant  spirits  of  former  days — a  cheer 
fulness  which  springs  from  the  "hope  that  cannot  be 
moved,"  and  from  that  alone. 

To  little  Theo,  life  seemed  as  yet  to  hold  nothing  but  joy. 
She  had  not  in  the  least  comprehended  the  terrors  of  the 
night  of  the  revolt;  although  she  was  wide  awake  at  the 
time,  she  had  been  fully  convinced  that  Cudjoe  was  "play 
ing,"  and  the  hiding  in  the  old  sugar-house  had  seemed  to 
her  to  be  only  part  of  the  fun.  She  had  fallen  peacefully 
asleep  soon  after  reaching  this  friendly  shelter,  and  had  not 
waked  until  the  sun  was  shining,  and  the  happy  voices  of 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  181 

Doris  and  Leonard  roused  her.  She  had  wondered  for  a  day 
or  two,  after  leaving  Mrs.  Santon's  for  the  small  house  on  her 
father's  plantation,  but  had  finally  settled  it  in  her  small 
mind  that  they  were  paying  another  visit,  and  would  "  go 
home  by-and-bye."  She  trotted  round  after  Doris,  "help 
ing  "  with  such  sweet  and  eager  good-will,  that  Doris  gladly 
bore  the  hindering  which  this  help  too  often  caused,  and 
many  times,  as  she  did  so,  an  old  simile  returned  to  her 
mind  with  fresh  and  comforting  force — if  she,  so  faulty,  and 
so  immeasurably  far  from  perfect,  could  thus  take  the  will 
for  the  deed,  could  she  doubt  that  the  loving  All-Father 
would  do  the  same  ?  And  she  prayed  with  new  fervor  for 
the  "ordering"  of  her  "unruly  will." 

Mr.  Campbell,  as  well  as  his  wife,  had  suffered  in  health 
from  the  great  shock  and  after  anxiety,  and  there  was  so 
much,  now,  to  wear  upon  and  annoy  him  in  his  daily  life, 
that  he  began  to  look  worn  and  old.  He  was  some  fifteen 
years  older  than  his  wife,  but,  until  now,  he  had  never  seemed 
so.  As  day  after  day  passed,  and  the  condition  of  things 
upon  the  Island  grew  worse,  instead  of  better,  he  began  to 
be  alarmed,  not  for  his  own  future,  but  for  that  of  his  wife 
and  children.  Most  of  his  money  was  invested  in  the  plan 
tation,  and  in  ventures  in  the  United  States.  He  was  fitted 
for  no  other  business,  and  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  young 
enough  to  embark  upon  anything  new,  and  he  unjustly  re 
proached  himself  for  not  having  turned  his  property  into 
money,  while  that  was  possible,  and  taken  his  family  to  Eng 
land  or  the  United  States.  Even  a  brief  return  of  prosperity 
would  enable  him  still  to  do  this,  and  he  eagerly  watched  for 
an  opportunity  to  dispose  of  the  estate,  without  ruinous  loss, 
but  it  need  scarcely  be  said  that  no  such  opportunity  pre 
sented  itself. 

Doris's  piano  had,  of  course,  shared  the  fate  of  everything 
else  in  the  house,  and  she  had  at  first  bitterly  mourned  its 


182  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

loss,  but  now,  when  almost  every  moment  of  her  time  was 
so  fully  occupied,  and  when  it  was  often  necessary  to  keep 
the  bouse  as  quiet  as  might  be,  on  her  mother's  account,  she 
felt  almost  glad  that  it  was  not  there  to  tempt  her.  An 
toinette  Santon,  Grace  and  Sarah  and  Christine,  had  all 
begged  her  to  make  free  use  of  their  instruments  until 
her  father  could  import  a  new  one  for  her,  but  they  all 
lived  at  some  distance,  and  when,  occasionally,  she  had  a 
spare  afternoon,  and  could  have  practised  with  pleasure 
in  her  own  home,  she  felt  too  weary  to  take  the  ride 
which  must  precede  the  practising,  and  so  did  not  make  the 
attempt.  Her  schoolmates  bestowed  a  large  amount  of  sym 
pathy  upon  her,  on  this  subject,  and  were  almost  vexed  that 
she  seemed  to  need  it  so  little.  Her  father  had  wished  to 
order  the  new  piano  immediately  after  the  loss  of  the  old 
one,  but  she  begged  him  to  wait,  with  no  other  motive,  at 
first,  than  the  wish  to  postpone  its  arrival  until  the  new  house 
should  be  ready  to  receive  it,  and  in  a  short  time  she  was 
most  thankful  that  any  motive  had  enabled  her  to  persuade 
him  not  to  spend  so  large  a  sum,  just  then,  for  before  the 
work  of  reconstruction  was  more  than  begun,  the  want  of 
ready  money  began  to  be  severely  felt,  and  she  resolved  that, 
if  she  could  so  arrange  it,  the  purchase  should  be  indefinitely 
postponed.  Her  father  soon  saw  the  wisdom  of  this,  and 
acceded  to  her  wish,  but  with  an  added  realization  of  the 
change  in  their  circumstances. 

She  saw  but  little,  now,  of  any  of  her  schoolmates,  except 
ing  Jane  and  Clara  Barrett.  Even  to  those  among  the 
planters  who  had  suffered  no  loss  by  fire,  the  times  were 
trying,  and  difficult  to  cope  with,  for  all  had  felt  to  some 
degree  the  loss  and  vexation  incurred  by  the  difficulty  of  pro 
curing  laborers  immediately  after  the  emancipation  of  the 
blacks.  In  almost  every  instance  the  house-servants  had 
shown  much  affection  and  fidelity,  but  the  field-hands,  having 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  183 

had  less  intercourse  with  their  master's  family,  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  possession  of  freedom,  and  the  idea  that 
they  were  utterly  at  liberty  to  do  as  they  pleased.  There 
was,  it  is  true,  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  and  a  partial  return  to 
reason  among  them,  when  a  few  had  been  made  examples  of 
for  breaking  the  common  law  of  the  land,  aud  when  many 
had  suffered  real  distress,  for  want  of  food,  clothes  and 
lodging,  but  even  after  the  new  order  of  things  was  tolerably 
well  established,  and  most  of  the  negroes  were  in  the  employ 
of  their  former  masters,  there  was  a  sense  of  insecurity  which 
disheartened  the  planters,  and  many  undertakings  were 
abandoned,  simply  because  it  was  impossible  to  count  upon 
the  necessary  laboring  force  for  carrying  them  out. 

Those  who  have  lived  long,  and  observed  much,  must  very 
often  have  been  struck  by  the  manner  in  which  our  most 
ardent  wishes  are  sometimes  fulfilled;  the  story,  or  rather 
the  tragedy,  of  the  bracelets  and  shields  has  been  repeated 
many  times  since  its  first  enactment.  When  Christine 
Larson,  two  or  three  years  before,  had  talked  of  her  plans  for 
energizing  and  reforming  the  management  of  her  mother's 
plantation,  she  had  in  no  wise  taken  into  consideration  the 
possibility  of  such  a  state  of  affairs  as  now  prevailed  upon  the 
Island  ;  she  had  heartily  approved  the  plan  for  emancipating 
the  slaves,  for  her  idea  of  it  had  been  that  everything  would 
go  on  exactly  as  it  had  done  before,  excepting  that,  instead 
of  the  manifold  duties  which  had  fallen  to  the  master  or 
overseer  of  a  plantation,  there  would  be  the  simple  payment 
of  wages,  "  and  there  an  end."  But  instead  of  being  daunted 
by  the  reality,  which  differed  so  terribly  from  the  vision,  her 
spirit  seemed  to  rise  with  every  difficulty  and  discourage 
ment.  She  began  by  overseeing  the  overseer,  but  she  speedily 
discovered  so  much  in  his  conduct  of  affairs  which  was  ob^ 
jectionable,  not  only  to  her,  but  to  her  mother,  and  every 
right- thinking  person,  that  she  persuaded  Mrs.  Larsen  to  dis- 


184  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

miss  him.  Then,  choosing  a  faithful  house-servant  as  her 
first  assistant,  and  asking  advice  whenever  she  was  at  a  loss 
as  to  the  best  plan  to  be  pursued,  she  began  to  make  a 
daily  round  of  the  estate,  and  gradually  to  order  such  changes 
as  seemed  expedient.  By  Mr.  Campbell's  advice,  she  was 
careful  not  to  undertake  too  'much  at  once,  and  to  avoid 
exciting  opposition  whenever  she  could  do  so.  Before  sun 
rise  every  morning,  her  trim  little  figure,  clad  in  a  plain 
riding-habit,  might  be  seen,  mounted  on  a  stout  pony,  moving 
from  point  to  point  on  the  estate,  and  stopping  wherever 
direction,  advice,  or  encouragement  were  needed. 

Nearly  all  the  negroes  had  returned,  after  taking  a  brief 
holiday,  and,  as  Mrs.  Larsen's  plantation  had  been  at  some 
distance  from  the  spot  where  the  riot  originated,  and  so  had 
escaped  all  damage  by  fire,  there  was  no  loss  save  that  caused 
by  the  temporary  neglect  of  work.  Most  of  Mrs.  Larsen's 
friends  were  indignant  with  her  for  permitting  Christine  to 
carry  out  her  "absurd  whim,"  or,  at  the  best,  skeptical  as 
to  the  result,  and  Christine  herself  had  not  expected  any 
marked  success  the  first  year.  But  a  force  upon  which  she 
had  not  counted  forwarded  her  plans  more  than  a  much  more 
rational  and  logical  one  could  have  done.  She  had  always 
been  a  great  favorite  among  the  negroes,  from  the  time  when, 
trotting  about  at  her  father's  heels,  she  had  coaxed  him  into 
giving  them  holidays  whenever  any  of  the  "  white  folks  "  had 
a  birthday;  her  small  form  and  pretty  face  were  regarded 
with  great  and  loving  admiration,  and  when  it  was  once 
understood  that  she  had  actually  assumed  the  command, 
second  only  to  her  mother,  and  that  they  were  responsible  to 
her,  instead  of  to  an  overseer,  a  spirit  of  chivalrous  devotion 
took  possession  of  the  more  intelligent  among  them,  and  in 
this  way  influenced,  more  or  less,  all  the  rest ;  her  smiles  and 
praises,  freely  given  where  and  whenever  they  were  deserved, 
were  eagerly  courted  and  sought  for,  and  the  earnest  spirit 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  185 

with  which  she  entered  into  everything,  to  its  smallest  details, 
seemed  to  communicate  itself  to  most  of  the  people  who 
served  her. 

Those  who  had  most  openly  doubted  her  ability  for  what 
she  had  undertaken,  were  compelled  to  admit,  at  the  end  of 
a  few  months,  that  she  was  succeeding.  And  she  by  no 
means  gave  her  whole  time  to  the  management  of  the  estate. 
She  was  naturally  very  systematic,  and,  after  a  few  weeks  of 
experimenting,  she  had  arranged  and  condensed  her  work  in 
such  a  manner  that  she  was  free  to  visit  and  entertain  and 
to  continue  under  her  mother's  supervision,  those  studies  in 
which  she  felt  most  interest,  for  Mrs.  Larsen  was  highly 
educated,  and  although  her  health  was  far  from  good,  she 
made  it  quite  evident  that  Christine  had  a  right,  by  the  law 
of  heritage,  to  the  dauntless  and  tireless  energy  which  ac 
complished  so  much.  To  say  that  Mrs.  Larsen  was  proud  of 
Christine,  would  be  describing  her  feelings  altogether  too 
mildly,  and  Christine  herself  did  not  fully  know  how  much 
her  mother's  fond  and  loving  admiration  sustained  her. 

Mrs.  lifting  and  Hilda  had  decided  that,  rather  than  con 
tend  with  the  difficulties  inevitably  connected  with  rebuild 
ing  and  reorganizing,  they  would  take  up  their  abode  in 
a  small  house  in  the  nearest  town,  owned  by  the  former,  and 
sell  the  plantation  at  the  first  even  moderately  good  offer. 
Mrs.  Ufling  had  enough  money  invested  in  England  to  keep 
them  in  comfort,  though  not  the  full  and  plenteous  comfort 
of  their  former  home,  and  within  a  week  after  the  rebellion 
they  had  taken  possession  of  the  town  house,  and  were  fully 
occupied  in  making  it  habitable.  The  separation  was  a  real 
grief  both  to  Doris  and  Hilda,  and  for  a  while  there  was  a 
very  frequent  and  regular  interchange  of  notes,  but  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months,  although  their  communication  did 
not  wholly  cease,  it  occurred  at  longer  and  longer  intervals, 
and  Doris  noticed,  or  fancied  that  she  noticed,  a  constraint 


186  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

and  lack  of  warmth  in  all  that  Hilda  wrote.  She  tried  not  to 
allow  herself  to  be  influenced  by,  this,  and  to  convince  her 
self  that  the  change  was  solely  in  her  own  imagination,  but 
somehow  she  did  not  succeed  very  well ;  and  although,  on  the 
few  occasions  when  they  met,  they  were  cordial  and  affec 
tionate  to  each  other,  both  had  the  unacknowledged  feeling 
that  they  were  drifting  apart.  With  Jane  Barrett,  on  the 
contrary,  Doris  was  becoming  more  and  more  intimate.  The 
similarity  of  their  trouble  had  drawn  them  closer  together, 
and  it  seemed  to  Doris  that  she  was  always  discovering  new 
depths  of  tenderness  and  strength  under  Jane's  quiet,  some 
times  indifferent,  manner.  They  were  both  strongly  im 
pressed  with  the  feeling  that,  unless  affairs  upon  the  Island 
should  take  some  very  unlooked-for  and  improbable  turn, 
far  worse  was  to  come  to  the  planters,  financially  speaking, 
than  all  that  had  happened  yet.  A  few  were  prospering,  and 
several  plantations  had  recently  been  bought  by  strangers 
from  the  United  States,  who,  with  their  newly-imported 
energy  and  knowledge  of  farming,  had  already  wrought 
great  improvement.  But  a  number  of  planters  were  situ 
ated  as  Mr.  Campbell  and  Mr.  Barrett  were,  in  such  a  posi 
tion  that  either  going  or  staying  seemed  likely  to  prove 
disastrous ;  and  Doris  and  Jane  had  many  a  serious  discus 
sion  as  to  the  few  ways  for  making  money  which  were  open 
to  women  anywhere,  but  more  particularly  on  the  Island. 

"It's  all  very  well  to  say  that  we  could  teach,"  observed 
Doris  one  day  during  one  of  these  talks;  "but  I  could  count 
all  the  children  who  would,  in  the  most  remote  probability, 
be  sent  to  us,  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand,  and  that  would 
make  two  and  a  half  apiece,  Jeanie !  So  you  see  that  is  quite 
out  of  the  question,  and  we  may  as  well  stop  talking  about  it. 
And  it  is  just  as  bad  about  your  drawing  and  my  music — 
the  few  little  scholars  we  could  raise  would  not  be  worth  the 
time  it  would  take  to  teach  them.  But  I  do  believe  you 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  187 

could  sell  some  of  your  drawings,  if  you  would  only  send 
them  to  England  or  the  States.  Why  don't  you  just  try 
the  experiment,  by  way  of  satisfying  your  mind  ?" 

"  Because  I  can't  persuade  myself  that  they  are  worth  it. 
But  that  is  foolish.  Nobody  knows  there  who  or  what  I  am, 
and,  at  any  rate,  I  should  not  put  my  name  to  my  wrork.  I 
will  try,  Doris.  But  I  am  always  hoping  we  can  think  of 
something  that  we  might  do  together.  It  would  be  so  much 
nicer  and  more  encouraging  than  for  each  of  us  to  work 
alone." 

Doris  could  not  help  laughing  at  Jane's  serious  manner 
and  voice  and  air  of  anxiety. 

"My  dear  Jeanie,"  she  said,  "  the  necessity  is  not  upon  us 
yet,  and  it  may  be  for  years  and  it  may  be  forever  before 
it  is.  At  any  rate,  while  I  see  the  philosophy  of  being  pre 
pared  for  it,  so  far  as  we  may,  I  can't  see  any  at  all  in  bor 
rowing  trouble  and  anxiety  on  it.  I  have  been  thinking 
lately  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  that  we  can  only  have  one 
day  at  a  time,  and  that  a  night  invariably  comes  between 
every  two  of  them." 

"That  does  not  sound  at  all  like  you,  Doris,"  said  Jane, 
looking  at  her  earnestly.  "I  am  afraid  you  are  { borrowing' 
on  something  else,  if  you  are  not  upon  the  question  of  our 
future  means  of  support." 

" I  try  not  to,"  replied  Doris,  "but  when  I  look  at  mam 
ma,  and  think  of  the  change  that  has  come  over  her  since 
that  dreadful  night,  and  how  powerless  all  we  can  do,  or 

have  done,  is  to  arrest  it "  Her  voice  quivered,  then 

suddenly  stopped. 

"  Dear  Doris,"  said  Jane,  affectionately,  "  I  hope  your 
alarm  is  needless.  I  was  thinking  only  to-day  how  much 
better  Mrs.  Campbell  looked.  She  has  been  so  pale,  you 
know,  and  now  she  has  such  a  pretty,  soft  color  in  her  cheeks, 
and  her  eyes  are  bright,  and  altogether,  if  she  were  not  quite 


188  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

so  thin,  she  would  look  as  well  as  I  ever  saw  her  look- 
ing." 

But  Doris  shook  her  head.  She  had  questioned  Dr.  Sven- 
sen  about  that  "pretty,  soft  color,"  and  he  had  reluctantly 
admitted  that  it  was  caused  by  fever. 

"I  can't  talk  about  it,  Jeanie,"  she  said;  "it  upsets  me 
so  that  I  am  fit  for  nothing  at  all.  I  wanted  to  tell  you — 
when  Leonard  was  last  at  home  I  was  speaking  to  him  about 
your  drawing,  and  how  I  wished  you  would  send  some  of 
your  crayons — those  heads  especially — where  they  could  be 
seen  and  appreciated,  and  he  said  in  his  last  letter,  that  if  I 
could  persuade  you  to  send  a  few  to  him,  he  thought  he 
could  have  them  hung  at  the  spring  exhibition — he  knows 
one  or  two  of  the  hanging  committee.  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
the  last  time  I  saw  you,  and  I  have  been  reproaching  myself 
ever  since.  I  should  have  written  you  a  note,  if  I  had  not 
expected  you  to  come  to-day." 

"  How  very  kind  Mr.  Campbell  is !  "  said  Jane,  warmly. 
"  He  is  never  too  much  engrossed  with  his  own  affairs  to 
help  other  people  about  theirs.  But  do  you  '  really  and 
truly '  think  I  have  anything  worth  sending,  Doris  ?  I  want 
you  to  say  exactly  what  you  think,  dear.  Just  pretend  that 
I  am  Hilda,  and  that  you  are  criticising  Jane  Barrett's 
drawings." 

"Very  well,"  said  Doris,  with  mischief  in  her  eyes,  "that 
leaves  me  at  liberty  to  say  several  things  which  would  not  be 
in  good  taste  were  I  speaking  to  Jane  Barrett.  My  dear 
Hilda,  I  think  the  greatest  drawback  to  success  with  which 
Jane  has  to  contend  is  her  under-estimation  of  herself  and 
her  work.  If  she  could  be  made  wildly  self-confident  for  a 
day,  I  am  persuaded  that  she  would  do  some  surprising 
work,  but  I  can  see  very  often  that  a  sudden  doubt  about  her 
ability  cripples  the  freedom  of  her  hand.  And  yet,  in  spite 
of  this,  she  has  such  a  wonderful  facility  for  catching  the 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  189 

likeness — the  true  look — botli  of  people  and  things,  and  her 
touch  is  so  fine,  her  sense  of  beauty  so  great,  that " 

Doris's  remarks  ended  abruptly.  Jane  had  started  up, 
laughing  and  blushing,  as  soon  as  criticism  turned  to  praise, 
and  had  made  a  vain  effort  to  interrupt  Doris.  Failing  in 
this,  she  had  endeavored  to  suppress  the  rest  with  a  hand 
laid  lightly  over  Doris's  mouth,  but  the  latter  was  some 
what  taller  and  stouter  than  Jane,  and  it  was  several  mo 
ments  before  the  application  was  successful. 

"You  ask  for  a  candid  opinion,"  panted  Doris,  as  they 
both  dropped  into  chairs,  "and  then,  when  I  begin  to  give 
it,  you  resort  to  violence  to  keep  from  hearing  it!  Very 
well,  Miss  Barrett,  I  shall  know  better  the  next  time." 

<(  But  indeed,  Doris,  I  thought  you  were  only  joking," 
said  Jane,  apologetically.  "  I  couldn't  believe  you  really 
meant  all  that,  for  I  don't  see  how  you  possibly  could 
mean  it." 

"But  I  did  mean  every  word  of  it,  and  a  great  deal 
more  besides,  which  you  lost  by  your  unwarrantable  vio 
lence  ;  and  now,  the  only  atonement  I  shall  accept  is  a  free 
exhibition  of  all  your  drawings,  and  permission  to  choose  the 
three  I  like  best  and  send  them  to  Leonard  by  the  very  first 
opportunity.  Come,  Jeanie,  be  sensible  !  " 

"I  know  you  wished  to  add  'for  once';  I  can  see  it  in 
your  face.  Well,  then,  I  will — I  will  bring  you  all  I  have 
done  in  the  past  year,  and  perhaps  you  can  find  one  which 
you  will  consider  worth  sending,  but  I  don't  believe  you  will 
find  three." 

"  You  will  please  leave  that  to  me,  my  humble  friend. 
How  astonished  you  will  be  when  the  bank-notes  and  orders 
begin  to  roll  in !  Perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  then  to 
found  a  free  school  for  the  negroes,  and  appoint  me  director 
of  the  musical  department." 

"No;  by  that  time  you  will  be  starring  in  the  States, 


190  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

and  sending  me  newspapers  with  accounts  of  your  triumphs 
in  them.  Shall  you  give  piano  recitals,  or  sing,  or  do  both, 
at  your  concerts." 

"  Oh,  both,  of  course !  I  shall  be  the  Santa  Cruz  night 
ingale.  But  I  really  care  so  little  for  jewelry,  that  I  will 
send  it  all  to  you  for  your  lay  figure,  dear.  What  dreadful 
geese  we  are  !  Suppose  Miss  Anna  were  to  hear  us  talking 
such  trash?" 


OHAPTEE    XII. 

IT  was  not  many  days  after  this  conversation  that  Jane 
brought  her  portfolio  to  Doris,  saying  that  her  resolu 
tion  was  ebbing  with  every  day,  and  that,  if  she  waited 
much  longer,  it  would  fail  entirely,  and  all  Doris's  warm 
praise  of  the  drawings,  most  of  which  she  now  saw  for  the 
first  time,  failed  to  convince  the  young  artist  of  anything 
but  her  friend's  loving  partiality.  It  was  really,  Doris  in 
sisted,  very  difficult  to  restrict  her  choice  to  three,  when  there 
were  so  many  that  deserved  quite  as  well  to  be  chosen  as  the 
ones  which,  after  long  deliberation,  she  finally  selected^  Of 
these,  one  was  a  bit  of  rocky  headland,  with  a  mere  sugges 
tion  of  a  fierce  and  angry  sea ;  the  other  two  were  heads, 
and  Doris  had  at  once  recognized  one  of  these.  It  was  a 
spirited  likeness  of  Cudjoe's  face,  not  in  its  everyday  aspect, 
but  with  the  look  which  it  wore  on  that  memorable  night, 
when  he  lay  gazing  up  at  Doris,  in  the  arbor.  Tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes  as  she  studied  it,  and  she  had  almost  said  that  if 
Jeanie  would  keep  it,  she  herself  would  buy  it,  as  soon  as 
she  felt  a  little  more  free  to  indulge  her  wishes  ;  but  she  kept 
back  the  words,  for  two  reasons — she  knew  that  Jane  would 
at  once  insist  upon  giving  her  the  drawing,  and  would  take 
no  denial,  and  it  seemed  to  her,  also,  that  this  was  the  best 
of  all,  and  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  allow  Jane  to  lose 
the  chance  of  selling  it,  and  profiting  not  only  by  the  money 
it  would  bring,  but  also,  as  Doris  in  her  young  hopefulness 
was  sure,  the  fame. 

The  other  head,  or  rather  half-length,  puzzled  her.     The 
features  were  very  beautiful,  but  the  forehead  was  so  nearly 


192  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

concealed  by  a  peculiar  head-dress,  that  the  face  had  an 
animal  look,  utterly  devoid  of  heart  and  intellect.  A  keen, 
cruel  smile  curved  the  mouth,  and  narrowed  the  eyes,  which 
were  rather  small  in  proportion  to  the  other  features.  The 
head  was  "bent  slightly  forward,  with  an  eager  look  of  watch 
ing  something  with  intense  enjoyment.  Graceful  draperies, 
caught  on  one  shoulder  with  a  small  jeweled  dagger,  hid  all 
the  figure  hut  one  round,  firm  arm,  and  strong  but  shapely 
hand,  held  straight  out,  with  the  thumb  pointing  down 
ward.  Doris  shuddered  as  she  looked  at  it,  exclaiming  : 

"  Oh  Jeanie!  How  could  you  possibly  do  such  a  dreadful 
thing  as  this?  You  might  just  as  well  have  gone  on,  and 
put  in  the  arena,  with  the  victor  waiting  for  the  verdict  of 
the  crowd,  and  the  sea  of  cruel  faces  and  hands  with  thumbs 
turned  down.  It's  simply  horrible.  I  don't  see  what  pos 
sessed  you  to  do  it ! " 

Jane  laughed  at  Doris's  excitement,  as  she  answered — 
"  I  had  a  reason — somebody  without  a  great  deal  of  sense 
had  been  trying  to  convince  me  that  the  world  was  retro 
grading;  that  crime  and  evil  of  all  kinds  were  rapidly  in 
creasing,  and  all  that  sort  of  nonsense  which  some  people 
seem  to  mistake  for  cleverness  and  keenness  of  perception. 
It  set  me  to  thinking  of  all  the  '  darkness  and  cruel  habita 
tions  '  of  those  vaunted  golden  days,  and  of  all  the  freely- 
permitted,  and  even  openly-applauded  horrors  of  which  we 
can  scarcely  bear  to  read;  and  then,  somehow,  I  fell  to 
thinking  of  Antoinette,  and  how  such  a  life  and  character  as 
hers  would  have  been  doubly  impossible,  before  Christianity 
made  it  triumphantly  possible— such  a  soul  could  not  have 
grown  from  the  soil  of  even  the  most  cultured  and  civilized 
heathenism,  and  such  a  weak  and  helpless  body  would  have 
been  summarily  dealt  with.  And  this  thing  came  into  my 
head,  and  I  drew  it,  but  I  did  not  dream  that  I  had  been 
able  to  make  its  meaning  so  clear — that  involuntary  tribute 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  193 

of  genuine  horror  excited  by  it  pleases  me  more  than  all  the 
kind  things  you  have  said  i  on  purpose,'  as  we  used  to  say 
in  our  early  youth." 

"  You  little  skeptic !  Will  nothing  convince  you  that  you 
have  at  least  a  high  order  of  talent,  if  not  absolute  genius  ? 
But,  Jeanie,  you  ought  not  to  have  left  this  by  itself — there 
should  be  a  companion-head,  with  a  soul  in  the  eyes.  This 
is  only  one  side." 

"  My  dear,  if  you'd  ever  tried  to  put  a  soul  in  the  eyes, 
you'd  not  speak  of  it  in  that  light  and  casual  manner!  I 
did  make  the  companion-head,  but  I  was  so  utterly  disgusted 
with  it,  that  I  have  never  showed  it  to  anybody.  It  is  about 
as  much  like  my  meaning,  as  a  gingerbread  boy  is  like — your 
father,  for  instance!" 

"Oh,  please  let  me  see  it,  dear,"  coaxed  Doris ;  " you're 
no  judge  whatever  of  your  own  work — I  have  abundant 
proof  of  that  right  before  me — and  no  doubt  your  ideal- 
head  was  an  impossible  vision,  which  no  one  short  of  a 
Michael  Angelo  could  have  put  upon  canvas.  Come, 
where  is  it  ?" 

"  It  is  here,"  replied  Jane,  reluctantly  opening  an  inner 
pocket  of  the  portfolio  as  she  spoke ;  "  but  I  only  show  it  to 
you,  Doris,  to  convince  you  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say." 

And  she  slowly  drew  forth  a  sheet  of  paper  matching  in 
size  that  upon  which  the  other  head  was  drawn,  and  handed 
it  to  Doris,  watching  the  latter's  face  closely  as  she  did  so. 

For  a  full  minute  Doris  looked  at  it  without  a  word,  while 
tears  slowly  filled  her  eyes.  It  was  a  woman's  face,  pale  and 
sad,  and  the  beautiful  oval  was  outlined  by  the  close  white 
head-dress  of  a  Romish  nun,  but  the  eyes,  which  were  raised, 
were  "  homes  of  silent  prayer,"  and  filled  with  a  dove-like 
expression  of  peace.  The  mouth  was  firmly  closed,  and 
Doris  gazed  long  at  the  picture,  trying  to  detect  in  what 
part  of  the  face  lay  the  veiled  suggestion  of  a  radiant  smile, 
9 


194  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

but  without  succeeding  in  doing  so  ;  the  more  she  looked, 
the  more  it  seemed  like  something  hovering  in  the  air. 
There  was,  too,  a  suggestion  of  listening  both  in  face  and 
attitude. 

"  And  you  weren't  satisfied  with  this  ! "  Doris  at  last  ex 
claimed,  almost  with  indignation.  "  I  should  just  like  to 
know,  Jane  Barrett,  what  you  expected  of  yourself?  Why, 
it's — oh,  it  seems  profane  to  call  it  beautiful,  or  lovely,  or 
anything!  And  don't  you  see  how  much  like  Antoinette  it 
is  ?  I've  seen  her  look  almost  exactly  that  way,  after  she's 
been  more  ill  than  usual.  Did  you  do  it  on  purpose,  or  just 
happen  on  it  -the  likeness,  I  mean,  of  course?" 

"  Not  exactly  either.  I  asked  her  to  pose  for  me,  just 
once,  and  then  I  meant  to  put  in  the  expression  of  a  martyr's 
face,  in  a  curious  old  woodcut  of  papa's,  and  I  really  thought 
I  was  doing  it  that  way,  until  I  had  it  done,  and  then  it 
suddenly  seemed  to  change  itself  into  Antoinette,  only  not 
half  so  lovely,  and  by  that  time  I  was  so  discouraged — for  I 
can't  tell  you  how  many  times  I  had  rubbed  out  the  face 
and  tried  again — that  I  just  put  it  away,  and  tried  not  to 
think  any  more  about  it." 

"And  how  does  it  look  to  you  now?"  inquired  Doris, 
suddenly  holding  it  in  a  favorable  position  for  Jane's  inspec: 
tion.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said  with  character 
istic  frankness : 

"  A  great  deal  better  than  I  thought  it  did.  It  almost 
seems  to  me  now  that  with  a  few  little  touches " 

But  Doris  interrupted  her  eagerly  with— 

"  Not  another  little  touch  !  You  would  be  certain  to  spoil 
it.  No,  I  will  pack  it  with  the  others,  and  write  Leonard 
that  they  are  to  be  sold  as  a  pair — this,  and  that  horrible 
Wretch— and  on  no  account  to  be  separated." 

"  But  you  only  wanted  three,"  remonstrated  Jane.  "  Will 
you  leave  out  Cudjoe,  or  the  rocks  ?  " 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  195 

"Neither,"  replied  Doris.  "It  will  cost  no  more  to  send 
four  than  to  send  three  ;  Cudjoe  must  go,  and  I  want  to 
send  a  specimen  of  both  kinds  of  work.  Say  good-bye  to 
them,  Jeanie  ;  you'll  never  see  them  more,  my  dear." 

"Until  they  come  limping  back  to  say  that  nobody  will 
have  them,"  said  Jane;  but  Doris  severely  forbade  her  to 
continue  such  levity,  and  proceeded  to  pack  the  four  pic 
tures.  In  doing  so,  she  stopped  once  more  to  look  at  "the 
Wretch,"  haunted  by  the  elusive  likeness  in  the  face,  but 
this  time  it  eluded  her  no  longer,  and  she  suddenly  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Oh  Jeanie!  I  couldn't  think  of  whom  this  reminded  me 
so.  You  oughtn't — Hilda  never  in  the  world —  "  and  she 
stopped,  confused  and  troubled,  while  a  deep  flush  covered 
Jane's  face,  and  she  said,  deprecatingly: 

"I  didn't  suppose  any  one  would  see  it,  for  I  only  saw  it 
once,  and  then  it  was  gone  directly,  but  it  fairly  haunted  me 
until  I  had  painted  it." 

"Oh  Jeanie!"  exclaimed  Doris,  still  more  shocked  ;  "you 
don't  mean  to  say  that  anything  you  ever  really  saw  in 
Hilda's  face  suggested  this  heathenish  thing?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  now,"  replied  Jane,  "  or  you 
will  think  it  is  worse  than  it  really  is.  It  was  just  after  the 
rebellion,  when  the  news  came  that  the  ringleaders  were 
caught,  and  would  be  punished  to  the  full  extent  of  the 
law  ;  for  half  a  second  a  look  flashed  into  Hilda's  face, 
exactly  like  this.  I  don't  think  anybody  else  saw  it,  for  it 
was  gone  almost  as  it  came,  and  she  said  nothing,  then,  or 
at  any  time,  that  corresponded  with  it.  I  have  never  been 
able  to  understand  it,  and  perhaps  that  is  the  very  reason 
why  it  has  haunted  me  so,  but  I  see  now  that  I  should  not 
have  used  it  in  this  way,  and  since  you  have  seen  it,  I  am 
afraid  some  one  else  will,  so  I  think  we  had  better  not  send 


196  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

this  one,  Doris  ;  the  other  can  go  without  it,  if  you  like,  and 
nobody  will  know  it  was  one  of  a  pair." 

"But  the  Wretch  is  such  a  splendid  thing,  Jeanie — I 
really  think  that,  artistically,  it  is  the  best  thing  you  have 
done,  and  I  don't  believe  anybody  else  will  see  the  likeness, 
if  one  can  call  it  that — I  am  quite  certain  Leonard  will  not, 
and  I  can't  think  of  anybody  else  in  the  States  who  knows 
Hilda,  even  by  sight.  I  cannot  explain  to  you  exactly,  but 
I  feel  as  if  I  might  have  recognized  the  source  of  your  in 
spiration  when  no  one  else  would — oh,  yes,  we  shall  be  quite 
safe  in  sending  it,  I  am  sure  we  shall." 

Her  tone  of  conviction  overruled  Jane's  scruples,  for  the 
latter  decidedly  agreed  with  Doris  in  thinking  this  her  best- 
finished  work ;  so  the  two  pictures  were  duly  labeled  and 
packed,  and  sent  with  the  other  two. 

The  result  may  as  well  be  told  here,  although  part  of  it 
was  unknown  to  the  girls  for  many  months,  and  part  neither 
they  nor  any  one  else  but  Leonard  ever  knew  at  all. 

Doris  was  mistaken  in  imagining  that  Leonard  would  not 
see  the  likeness.  He  was  struck  with  it  far  more  quickly, 
and  of  course  much  more  painfully,  than  she  had  been,  and 
his  first  feeling  was  one  of  indignation  against  Jane.  Upon 
farther  reflection,  however,  he  accused  himself  of  injustice, 
and  resolved  to  believe,  rather  than  believed,  that  it  was 
wholly  accidental,  or  else  a  freak  of  his  own  imagination. 
Upon  one  thing,  however,  he  speedily  decided — the  picture 
must  be  destroyed,  to  avert  the  possibility  of  a  similar  freak 
upon  the  part  of  some  other  imagination.  He  was  strongly 
inclined  to  leave  it  at  home,  have  its  companion  valued  by  a 
dealer,  and  pay  an  equal  price  for  both  ;  but  when  he  con 
sidered  that  he  had  promised  to  do  his  best  to  have  whatever 
pictures  Jane  sent  exhibited,  it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  he 
would  be  justified  in  doing  this.  There  was  still  time,  how 
ever,  before  the  opening  of  the  exhibition,  to  write  to  Santa 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  197 

Cruz  and  receive  an  answer ;  so,  taking  all  the  pictures,  and 
a  letter  of  introduction  from  a  well-known  artist,  he  repaired 
to  a  prominent  dealer,  and  asked  him  to  set  a  fair  price  upon 
the  pair. 

Mr.  Nixon  examined  them  carefully,  and  then  said: 

"The  work  is  crude,  and  shows  need  of  technical  train 
ing,  but  there  is  a  power  here  which  would  make  the  train 
ing  highly  worth  while.  Does  the  artist  live  hi  New  York 
or  the  vicinity  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Leonard,  "  her  home  is  in  Santa  Cruz  ;  but 
I  shall  be  happy  to  give  you  her  address,  if  you  can  forward 
her  interest  in  any  way." 

"  Her  address  ?  I  imagined  this  work  was  done  by  a  man. 
I  don't  think  I  care  for  it  just  yet ;  if  she  will  put  herself 
through  a  course  of  thorough  training,  I  would  like  to  see 
what  she  can  do  a  year  or  two  hence.  And  I  am  willing  to 
take  this  pair.  I  have  just  discovered  the  idea,  and  it  is 
rather  striking — do  you  see?  They  are  marked  *  Before 
Christ'  and  'Anno  Domini.'  That  coldly-cruel  face  and 
downward-pointing  thumb  make  one  see  the  arena  and  the 
vast  audience  around  it — and  the  contrast  with  this  saintly 
face  is  terribly  strong.  Yes,  I  shall  feel  safe  in  taking  these 
— I  am  sure  they  will  sell,  and  perhaps  secure  other  orders 
for  the  artist." 

"But  this  particular  pair,"  said  Leonard,  with  a  little 
hesitation,  "is  already  bespoken,  although,  if  you  really 
think  they  would  induce  orders,  they  can  be  left  here  as  long 
as  you  think  proper.  I  merely  brought  these  two  for  the 
purpose  of  having  them  valued  ;  but  the  other  two  are  for 
sale,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad,  after  the  exhibition,  if  you 
will  either  buy  them  or  exhibit  them  here.  I  brought  the 
companion  pictures,  thinking  you  might  possibly  send  an 
order  to  the  artist  on  the  strength  of  them,  but  I  cannot 
leave  them  just  now." 


198  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Mr.  Nixon  had  been  examining  them  as  Leonard  spoke, 
and  he  now  laid  them  down,  saying,  with  a  little  disappoint 
ment  in  his  tones : 

"  The  negro's  head  is  good  ;  the  other  is  simply  common 
place.  I  am  sorry  you  can't  let  me  have  those  others — I 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  them.  If  the  other  two  don't  happen 
to  sell  at  the  exhibition — and  far  worse  things  occasionally 
do,  I  assure  you — I  will  take  thorn  at  least  to  exhibit  here 
for  a  few  weeks,  on  the  chance  of  the  commission,  or  I  may 
possibly  buy  them  outright.  It  would  be  as  well,  perhaps, 
for  you  to  ascertain  whether  the  artist  would  prefer  a  com 
paratively  small  certainty  to  a  large  uncertainty." 

"I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,"  replied  Leonard;  "and  now 
will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  you  would  be  willing  to  pay 
for  the  pair  you  fancy  ?  " 

Mr.  Nixon  considered  for  a  few  minutes. 

"They  are  undoubtedly  very  good,"  he  said,  "but  then, 
as  I  remarked,  they  are  crude  and  are  only  in  black  and  white ; 
I  wish  she  might  have  done  them  equally  well  in  oils.  Still, 
I  should  be  willing  to  pay  you  fifty  dollars  apiece  for  them, 
on  the  chance  of  selling  them  at  a  small  advance." 

"And  you  think  their  exhibition  here  would  possibly  re 
sult  in  orders  to  the  artist  ?" 

"Quite  possibly.  Anything  with  an  idea  in  it  always 
takes  with  my  best  class  of  customers.  That  was  my  reason 
for  being  willing  to  buy-  them  outright." 

"Very  well;  I  will  consult  the  artist,  and  let  you  know 
as  soon  as  I  have  her  decision." 

And  that  night  a  letter  to  Doris  was  written,  containing 
the  following  message  for  Jane  : 

"  Please  tell  Jeanic  that  I  thought  all  her  pictures  won 
derfully  well  done — she  has  been  so  tremendously  modest 
about  her  attainments,  that  I  had  no  idea  we  were  harboring 
such  a  genius  among  us.  That  little  bit  of  coast  really  mado 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  199 

me  homesick.  I  could  see  the  spot  from  which  she  took  it 
so  plainly.  But  the  heads  were,  I  suppose,  the  best  from  an 
artistic  and  commercial  point  of  view,  and  they  certainly 
are  very  fine.  I  don't  see  how  anybody  can  catch  and  fix  an 
expression,  after  only  seeing  it  for  a  moment,  as  Jeanie  has 
done  with  Cudjoe's  face.  It  is  exactly  his  look  on  that 
eventful  night,  when  he  so  distinguished  himself.  And  I 
am  certain  that  the  inspiration  for  that  saintly  face  was 
drawn  from  poor  Antoinette's  sweet  look  of  patience  and 
peace.  By  the  way,  I  have  an  offer  of  sixty  dollars  apiece 
for  that  pair — that  is,  ten  more  for  each  than  a  dealer  is 
willing  to  give.  Some  one  wished  to  purchase  them,  and  so 
I  had  them  valued  by  Nixon ;  he  thinks  also  that  if  they 
could  be  hung  at  his  rooms  for  a  few  weeks,  they  would  very 
probably  draw  some  orders — but  if  Jeanie  would  prefer  the 
certainty  to  the  chance  of  fame  and  fortune  above  men 
tioned,  and  to  the  other  chance  of  making  them  more  widely 
known  at  the  spring  exhibition,  will  you  ask  her  to  kindly 
let  me  know  at  once,  and  I  will  conclude  the  bargain  and 
send  her  the  money." 

Leonard  had  at  first  been  inclined  to  borrow  the  money 
— which  he  could  have  done  without  any  difficulty — and  re 
pay  it  by  installments  from  his  monthly  allowance,  but  he 
had  never  yet  incurred  even  so  small  a  debt  as  this,  and  the 
idea  was  extremely  unpleasant  to  him,  so  he  cast  about  in  his 
mind  for  some  other  way.  He  had  jn  his  possession  the  few 
valuable  articles  of  jewelry  which  had  belonged  to  his  mother, 
and  a  very  fine  watch  that  had  been  his  father's,  but  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  part  with  either  of  these ;  the 
watch  was  peculiarly  dear  to  him  from  association,  and  he 
had  always  fancied  Hilda  wearing  the  jewels  at  some  far- 
future  day.  But  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
pawn  one  of  the  rings,  and  redeem  it  by  the  same  means 


200  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

which  would  have  served  to  repay  a  debt.     This  he  did,  ob 
taining  without  difficulty  the  sum  he  wished. 

He  was  so  nearly  sure  that  Jeanie  would  accept  the  offer, 
that  he  did  this  without  waiting  to  hear  from  her,  and  it 
soothed  his  impatience  a  little ;  but,  after  it  was  done,  the 
waiting-time  seemed  long.  He  had  put  away  the  hated 
picture,  resolved  not  to  look  at  it  again  until  the  day  arrived 
when  he  might  lawfully  destroy  it ;  but  it  seemed  to  exercise 
a  sort  of  evil  fascination  upon  him,  and  every  evening, 
against  his  will,  he  took  it  out  and  studied  it  afresh,  trying 
vainly  to  convince  himself  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  mor 
bid  imagination.  He  became  at  last  so  sorely  tempted  to 
burn  it,  trusting  that  Jane's  answer  would  justify  him  in 
having  done  so,  that  he  locked  it  into  an  old  desk,  and  gave 
the  key  to  one  of  his  friends,  with  the  request  that  it  should 
under  no  circumstances  be  returned  before  a  certain  date. 
He  named  a  day  by  which  he  might  reasonably  hope  to  have 
heard  Jane's  decision.  His  classmate  imagined  that  he  had 
put  away  money  which  he  did  not  wish  to  be  tempted  into 
spending,  and  faithfully  fulfilled  his  trust — altogether  too 
faithfully,  Leonard  thought,  for  the  longed-for  letter  arrived 
two  or  three  days  before  the  one  fixed  upon  for  the  surren 
der  of  the  key,  and  no  persuasions  could  induce  its  keeper 
to  give  it  up.  So  Leonard,  with  what  patience  he  could 
muster,  waited  until  he  could  lawfully  claim  it,  and  then, 
first  kindling  a  little  wood-fire  in  his  grate,  to  be  in  readiness, 
rushed  to  the  closet  for  the  desk.  It  was  not  where  he  had 
put  it,  and,  after  a  thorough  search,  he  was  forced  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  not  in  the  closet  at  all.  A  day  or  two 
later  he  learned  that  the  keeper  of  the  lodging-house  had 
been  obliged  to  discharge  her  man-servant  for  drunkenness 
and  dishonesty,  and  he  had  no  farther  doubt  as  to  the  fate 
of  the  desk.  It  had  contained,  beside  the  picture,  a  collec 
tion  of  foreign  coins  which  he  had  made  some  years  before, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  201 

and  another  collection  of  original  verses  which  he  had  been 
equally  unwilling  either  to  exhibit  or  destroy.  There  was 
not  an  article  in  his  possession  which  he  would  so  have  dis 
liked  to  lose  in  this  mysterious  and  uncertain  way,  and  he 
blamed  himself  bitterly  for  not  having  kept  it  in  his  trunk, 
or  else  locked  the  closet  door. 

For  weeks  afterward,  he  never  passed  any  sort  of  store- 
window  where  pictures  were  exposed  for  sale  without  an  in 
voluntary  glance  of  investigation;  but  as  he  continued  to 
fail  to  find  it,  his  apprehension  at  last  in  great  measure  wore 
itself  out,  and  he  succeeded  in  nearly  forgetting  the  whole 
aifair.  But  not  quite,  although  he  never  again  saw  or  heard 
of  the  desk  or  its  contents. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Doris  had  been  greatly  elated  with  such 
an  immediate  fulfilment  of  at  least  part  of  her  prophecy. 
Jane  happened  to  be  with  her  when  Leonard's  first  letter 
arrived,  and  Doris  wound  up  the  message  with  a  triumphant 
"  There  now,  Miss  Skeptic,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  very  much  pleased,  and  still  more  surprised, 
and  still  more  obliged  to  Mr.  Campbell  for  all  the  trouble  he 
is  taking,"  replied  Jane,  "and  that  I  shall  certainly  consider 
this  magnificent  bird  in  the  hand  worth  all  the  possible,  but 
improbable  ones  in  the  bush." 

"Then  you  think  you  had  better  let  them  go  without 
sending  them  to  the  spring  exhibition  first?"  inquired  Doris 
doubtfully;  adding,  "I  had  set  my  heart  upon  having  them, 
as  much  as  possible,  exhibited." 

"And,  to  tell  the  truth,  T  had  set  mine  quite  the  other 
way,"  replied  Jane;  "as  soon  as  they  were  fairly  off,  I  was 
seized  by  a  fresh  attack  of  self-reproach,  and  fear  that  some 
body  would  see  what  you  saw,  and  I  mean  to  write  Mr. 
Campbell  that,  unless  the  purchaser  should  particularly  wish 
to  have  them  exhibited,  I  much  prefer  that  they  should  not 
be." 


202  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"But  don't  yon  see,"  said  Doris,  triumphantly,  "that 
what  I  saw  has  never  crossed  Leonard's  mind  at  all  ?  You 
see  what  he  says  about  Antoinette,  so  of  course,  if  he  had 
seen  the  other,  he  would  have  spoken  about  it  at  the  same 
time." 

Doris  gave,  at  least,  ample  proof  of  one  thing  by  this 
logical  deduction;  it  could  only  have  been  made  by  one 
"heart-whole,  and  fancy-free."  But  Jane  remained  firm, 
and  if  she  could  have  seen  the  pleasure  which  her  note  gave 
Leonard,  she  would  have  felt  amply  rewarded  for  the  re 
motely  possible  detriment  to  her  fume  and  fortune ;  and, 
although  this  pleasure  was,  as  has  been  seen,  short-lived,  it 
changed  to  a  feeling  of  relief  that,  since  she  had  expressed  a 
wish  to  the  contrary,  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  exhibit 
the  pictures,  and  that  so  it  was  unnecessary  for  him  to  ac 
count  to  her  for  his  inability  to  do  so.  He  did  feel  a  little 
doubtful  as  to  whether  or  not  he  should  tell  her  of  the  dis 
appearance  of  "  the  Wretch,"  as  Doris  persisted  in  calling  it, 
and  he  resolved,  upon  his  return  home,  to  tell  Doris,  at  least, 
the  whole  affair,  and  see  what  she  thought  the  best  course 
to  pursue,  although  he  disliked  extremely  the  idea  of  putting 
into  words  his  feeling  about  the  picture. 

He  promptly  forwarded  the  price  agreed  upon  to  Jane, 
who,  after  several  consultations  with  her  mother  and  Doris, 
decided  to  take  this,  the  first  money  of  her  own  earning,  as 
the  beginning  of  a  fund  for  a  year's  tuition  in  "the  States." 
Doris  had  read  her  the  dealer's  remarks  and  criticisms,  as 
quoted  by  Leonard,  and  she  was  fully  aware  of  their  justice ; 
there  was  no  one  on  the  Island  qualified  to  instruct  her  far 
ther,  and  she  saw  that,  to  make  her  talent  really  available, 
much  more  instruction  was  needed. 

She  and  Doris  had  not  yet  been  able  to  settle  upon  any 
thing  which  the  latter  could  do,  in  case  the  need  arose  for 
her  to  do  something.  She  was  becoming,  under  her  mother's 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  203 

gentle  instruction,  an  expert  and  thorough  housekeeper,  and 
she  used  laughingly  to  conclude  the  discussion  by  saying 
that  she  would  offer  herself  in  this  capacity  to  some  of  the 
still  rich  families,  who  were  much  annoyed  by  the  difficulty 
of  securing  good  house-service,  since  the  rebellion. 

"I  would  do  it,  too,  if  we  really  needed  the  money, 
Jeanie,"  she  said  one  day,  quite  gravely  ;  "I  would  do  any 
sort  of  honest  work,  sooner  than  be  dependent  upon  any  one 
upon  whom  I  had  no  real  claim.  It  always  vexes  me  to  see 
women  sitting  down  and  turning  into  helpless  burdens,  when 
they  have  no  more  right  to  do  it  than  men  have.  And  I  do 
believe  that,  if  they  would  only  use  a  little  common  sense, 
they  could  always  find  something  to  do — don't  you  ?" 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  replied  Jane,  thoughtfully ; 
"just  look  how  most  of  them  are  brought  up — why,  Doris, 
half  the  girls  we  know,  at  least,  don't  think  of  such  a  thing 
as  even  putting  on  their  own  shoes  and  stockings!  And 
what  one  thing  do  such  people  as  that  know  enough  about 
to  do  any  good  with  ?  " 

"But  even  those  girls,"  persisted  Doris,  "are  only  lazy 
through  circumstance  and  habit.  Just  look  how  they  can 
work  if  they  have  a  little  stimulation,  and  a  real  motive.  I 
think  Miss  Anna  herself  was  surprised  to  find  such  an 
amount  of  undeveloped  energy  in  even  the  laziest  of  her 
girls.  And  every  one  found  that  there  was  really  some  one 
thing  that  she  could  do  very  well.  It  seems  to  me,  from  the 
books  I  have  read — stories,  I  mean — that  the  reason  women 
don't  succeed,  is  the  dreadful  one  suggested  by  some  cynical 
person,  which  made  me  so  angry  when  I  first  read  it — they 
nearly  all  have  an  idea  that  they  will  be  married  some  day, 
and  so  they  do  not  put  mind  and  interest  into  anything  they 
undertake,  but  just  pick  it  up  as  one  does  a  bit  of  fancy- 
work,  when  they  have  nothing  on  hand  that  they  like 
better." 


204:  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"What  a  traitorous  valuation  of  your  sex!"  said  Jane, 
laughing;  "I  am  afraid  that  statement  is  one  of  those  fic 
tions  '  founded  on  fact '  which  have  always  been  one  of  my 
pet  abominations.  Of  course  there  are,  I  suppose,  some 
women  of  this  engaging  nature,  but  I  have  faith  to  believe 
that  most,  if  not  all,  of  our  friends  and  acquaintances  would 
rise  to  the  occasion,  were  adversity  to  overtake  them,  and 
find  themselves  possessed  of  abilities  which  would  surprise 
even  themselves.  The  fact  that  it  has  never  occurred  to 
some  of  them  that  they  were  capable  of  putting  on  their  own 
shoes  and  stockings,  proves  nothing,  to  my  mind,  excepting 
the  other  fact,  that  it  has  never  been  suggested  to  them. 
Don't  you  remember  that  poem  we  like  so  much — about 
'the  lightest  of  steps  in  the  ronde'  being  taken  by  the 
coolest  and  most  intrepid  heroes  of  'the  terrible  days  of  the 
Fronde?'" 

"  Of  course  I  do — but  it  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  apply. 
Your  devotion  to  parallels  is  very  great,  Jeanie,  but  some 
times,  I  would  humbly  suggest,  they  don't  exactly  match.  I 
can't  explain  why  this  particular  one  doesn't,  and  there's 
where  you  almost  always  get  the  better  of  me — you  can  put 
your  ideas  into  such  well-chosen  words  that  it  is  almost 
enough  to  convince  one  that  the  ideas  must  be  well-chosen 
too !  It's  too  bad  for  you  to  have  two  talents.  If  you  can't 
sell  your  pictures,  yon  can  take  to  writing  didactic  essays  for 
the  'leading  periodicals.'  Just  think  how  delightful  it  must 
be  to  have  an  audience  of  thousands,  instead  of  one ! " 

"  The  very  idea  is  paralyzing ! "  and  Jane  gave  a  pre 
tended  shudder.  "No  ;  if  I  can't  sell  my  pictures,  or  give 
drawing  and  painting  lessons,  I  shall  go  to  France  for  a 
month's  instruction,  and  come  back  prepared  to  hire  myself 
out  as  a  French  cook.  I  have  a  fine  natural  gift  that  way, 
and  it  seems  rather  a  pity  not  to  cultivate  it." 

"  That's  just  what  mamma  says  about  me.     I'll  tell  you 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  205 

what  it  is,  Jeanie,  we'll  move  to  that  part  of  the  Island 
which  suffered  least  from  the  rebellion,  and  open  a  fancy 
bakery  and  cook-shop!  We  can  charge  fancy  prices,  of 
course,  for  such  very  superior  articles  as  we  shall  make,  and 
you  will  see  that  we'll  fairly  coin  money." 

"What  a  brilliant  idea!  We  will  have  little  chocolate 
and  coffee  tables,  where  people  can  sit  and  eat  our  cakes 
and  things,  and  drink  the  most  delicious  chocolate  and 
coffee.  And  we  can  make  guava  jelly;  you  know  people 
who  visit  the  Island  always  want  some  to  take  home  with 
them.  And  we  will  sell  maube  ;  we  can  put  on  our  sign — 

'THE    BEST    OF    MATTED, 

FRESH    MADE    EVERY    DAY.' 

People  will  flock  to  our  portals;  we  shall  be  obliged  to 
enlarge  the  house." 

"  That  will  depend  upon  how  large  it  is  to  begin  with," 
said  Doris,  gravely,  "and  perhaps  we  shall  only  be  able  at 
first  to  have  an  open  stall  on  a  street  corner  in  Frederick- 
stadt ;  you  know  the  people  in  stories  who  succeed  always 
begin  in  some  such  way  !  But  do  you  know,  Jeanie,  that, 
without  any  joking  at  all,  I  believe  money  could  really  be 
made  in  that  manner?  Not  the  nonsense  part  about  cakes 
and  maube  and  a  corner-stall,  but  putting  up  preserves  for 
visitors  to  buy,  and  then,  on  a  larger  scale  for  grocers  and 
on  private  orders  from  the  States.  There  are  so  many 
things  of  that  kind  that  strangers  seem  to  like,  and  the 
materials  would  cost  very  little  compared  with  what  we 
could  sell  them  for." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  could  be  done,"  said  Jane,  thoughtfully. 
'{The  outlay  for  a  beginning  would  be  very  small;  then  the 
first  receipts  could  be  invested  in  larger  quantities  of  fruit 
and  sugar,  and  so  on,  until  a  large  business  had  been  worked 
up,  with  very  slight  risk  in  the  original  investment.  And 


206  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

really  good  preserves  are  almost  as  scarce  and  hard  to  find  as 
really  good  pictures." 

"And  much  more  widely  appreciated/'  said  Doris,  laugh 
ing;  and  so  the  talk  ended  for  that  time,  but  no  one  ever 
knows  where  a  talk  is  really  going  to  end,  if  anything,  no 
matter  how  trifling,  does  end  in  this  world,  which  one  is 
often  inclined  to  doubt. 

And  Doris's  mind  often  reverted  to  it  as  days  passed  and 
she  saw  the  lines  of  care  and  anxiety  deepening  on  her 
father's  loved  face.  He  was,  as  has  been  said,  some,  fifteen 
years  older  than  his  wife,  and  although  vigorous -health  and 
perfect  contentment  and  happiness  had  heretofore  in-  great 
measure  concealed  this  discrepancy  in  their  ages,  he  was 
beginning  now  fully  to  look  his  age,  and,  as  Doris  could  see 
only  too  plainly,  to  feel  it  too.  Her  intimate  knowledge  of 
his  affairs  did  not  tend  to  soothe  her  anxiety.  The  losses  by 
the  defection  of  the  laborers  proved  far  more  heavy  than 
had  been  anticipated  at  first,  and  the  want  of  ready  money 
was  widely  felt.  And  just  then  a  rumor  began  to  be  circu 
lated  that  the  company  in  which  Mr.  Campbell's  house  was 
insured  had  failed  for  a  large  amount. 


CHAPTEK    XIII. 

Doris  to  Leonard. 

SANTA  CRUZ,  March  3d,  184-. 
"  MY  DEAR  BROTHER  : 

fclie  promise,  rashly  made,  and  with  no  idea 
that  I  should  ever  be  called  upon  to  fulfill  it, 
induces  me  to  write  what  I  am  ahout  to  tell  you,  and  I  feel 
like  apologizing  beforehand  for  the  pain  which  I  know  too 
well  will  be  inflicted  by  my  words ;  but  I  know  that  neither 
preface  nor  apology  will  do  any  good,  so  I  will  keep  my  word 
as  briefly  as  possible.  You  remember,  of  course,  the  ball  on 
board  the  'Thekla'  on  the  night  on  which  the  'King  Chris 
tian  '  sailed,  and  I  am  afraid  you  remember,  too,  a  certain 
handsome  Danish  lieutenant,  named  Jansen,  who  brought  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  Mrs.  Ufling,  and  was  very  attentive 
to  Hilda  all  the  evening.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  she 
was  only  naturally  pleased  by  his  pleasure  in  her  society, 
and  that  his  special  attention  to  her  and  to  her  mother  was 
partly  on  account  of  the  letter.  I  see  now  that  I  was  quite 
mistaken,  and  I  should,  I  imagine,  have  seen  it  far  sooner 
had  not  Hilda  and  I  been  so  much  separated  of  late.  As 
you  know,  Mrs.  Ufling  moved  into  Frederickstadt  very  soon 
after  the  rebellion,  and  I  do  not  think  I  have  met  Hilda 
more  than  a  dozen  times  since.  But  you  must  not  blame  her 
for  this,  for  more  than  half  the  times  we  have  met  she  has 
come  here.  Mamma  seems  so  very  feeble,  and  is  so  liable  to 
sudden  attacks  of  even  greater  weakness,  that  I  have  de 
clined  all  invitations  of  every  kind  this  winter,  and  made 
but  few  voluntary  visits,  while  Hilda,  as  was  perfectly 


208  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

natural  under  the  circumstances,  has  had,  I  fancy,  a  rather 
gay  time.  She  is  so  very  beautiful  that,  even  were  she  less 
well-informed  and  interesting  than  she  is,  her  great  popu 
larity  would  be  nothing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  she  has  received  many  more  invitations  than  she 
has  accepted. 

"  It  was  one  of  the  Lilienthals  who  told  me,  without  a 
tli ought  of  mischief-making,  and  rather  as  if  she  supposed  I 
already  knew  it,  that  Lieutenant  Jansen's  devotion  had 
continued,  and  even  increased,  and  that  Hilda,  while  she 
gave  him  no  open  encouragement,  certainly  took  no  pains 
to  discourage  him.  I  made  some  non-committal  reply  and 
changed  the  subject  as  speedily  as  possible,  but  I  resolved  to 
risk  Hilda's  anger  and  ask  her,  the  very  first  time  that  I  had 
a  good  opportunity,  if  she  knew  how  her  name  was  being 
coupled  with  Lieutenant  Jansen's,  and  if  there  were  any 
real  foundation  for  it.  I  had  a  chance  before  very  long,  for 
she  drove  out  with  her  mother,  and  as  mamma  was  feeling 
very  weak  that  day,  she  saw  Mrs.  Ufling  alone,  while  I  stayed 
with  Hilda.  We  talked  for  a  little  while  about  nothing  in 
particular,  as  we  have  always  done  of  late,  and  then  I  was 
afraid  her  mother  would  come  back,  and  asked  her  rather 
suddenly  if  she  would  answer  a  question.  She  looked  at  me 
for  a  minute,  perfectly  silent,  and  then  she  said  that  it  was 
quite  unnecessary — that  she  supposed  I  had  been  listening  to 
gossip,  and  she  could  guess  the  nature  of  the  question.  She 
was  fully  aware,  she  said,  that  people  were  busying  them 
selves  about  herself  and  Lieutenant  Jansen,  but  that  no 
amount  of  gossip  should  influence  her  decision  one  way  or 
the  other,  or  the  length  of  time  she  saw  fit  to  take  in  mak 
ing  it. 

"'Then  he  has  asked  you  to  marry  him?'  I  said;  and 
she  answered,  just  as  coolly  as  if  we  were  talking  of 
dancing : 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  209 

"  'He  has;  and  I  have  asked  him  for  three  months  in 
which  to  consider  his  proposal.  One  month  of  the  three  is 
already  gone,  but  I  have  not  yet  decided.' 

"  'But  surely/  I  said,  'if  you  loved  him,  you  would  have 
found  it  out  before  now — not  before  he  asked  you,  of  course, 
but  very  soon  afterward,  I  should  think/ 

"  'I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,'  she  said,  with  that  cold  little 
smile  which  used  to  make  us  call  her  the  Ice  Maiden  when 
we  were  all  at  school  together;  'I  am  not  so  impetuous  as 
you  are,  Doris,  you  know.' 

"  Somehow  this  provoked  me,  as  perhaps  she  thought  it 
would,  and  I  said,  without  stopping  to  think  how  it 
sounded : 

"  '  Impetuosity  is  one  thing,  and  honesty  is  another.  It 
is  well  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,  it  seems  to  me.' 

"  'Not  always,'  she  said,  smiling  at  me  in  that  exasperat 
ing  way,  instead  of  getting  angry,  as  I  fully  expected  she 
would  ;  'it  is  sometimes  embarrassing,  my  little  Doris.  You 
must  consider  that  a  girl's  first  offer  always  possesses  a  charm 
of  its  own,  quite  independent  of  the  suitor,  and  I  was  always 
attracted  by  people  who  did  not  fear  to  face  their  fate,  no 
matter  how  mistaken  and  wrong-headed  they  might  be.  I 
have  no  faith  whatever  in  silent  devotion — in  a  man's  silent 
devotion,  at  least ;  it  might  be  possible  for  a  woman,  if  she 
were  a  very  foolish  one.' 

"  She  looked  so  cold  and  mocking  as  she  spoke,  that  I  felt 
as  if  I  must  fly  out  of  the  room ;  and  yet,  somehow,  at  the 
same  time  there  was  a  sort  of  tremor  in  her  voice  and  droop 
about  her  eyes,  that  made  me  feel  as  if,  were  it  not  so  utterly 
improbable,  she  might  be  on  the  verge  of  crying  ;  and  then, 
Leonard,  a  strange  thing  happened.  As  she  finished  speak 
ing,  her  eyes  turned  suddenly  to  that  little  portrait  of  you 
which  hangs  over  the  escritoire — I  hung  it  there,  that  I 
might  always  look  at  it  while  I  wrote  to  you,  and  it  is  smil- 


210  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

ing  down  at  me  now — it  was  only  for  a  second,  she  turned 
quite  away  instantly,  and  if  I  had  not  been  looking  so  in 
tently  at  her  I  should  never  have  seen  it.  Our  eyes  met,  and 
the  color  flew  into  her  face  till  she  looked  perfectly  beauti 
ful  ;  but  she  sprang  up,  saying  the  room  was  insufferably 
warm,  and  went  out  on  the  stone  piazza,  and  just  then  Mrs. 
Ufling  came  back,  and  they  went  away — but  to  my  utter  as 
tonishment  Hilda  kissed  me  good-bye  as  she  has  not  kissed 
me  for  months,  and  if  it  were  not  so  absurd,  I  should  be  cer 
tain  that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"I  cannot  be  sure  that  I  have  given  you  our  exact  words, 
but  of  their  import  I  am  very  sure.  And  now,  dear  Leon 
ard,  may  I  tell  you  what  I  think  ?  You  always  used  to  let 
me,  when  we  talked  together  face  to  face,  so  I  shall  take  it 
for  granted  that  you  do  now.  I  don't  pretend  to  say  that 
Hilda  loves  you,  but  I  think  she  was  deeply  piqued  by  your 
going  away  without  telling  her,  what  she  must  have  seen, 
that  you  love  her.  And  I  think  she  is  balancing  between 
the  good  marriage,  from  a  worldly  point  of  view,  and  the 
long,  almost  hopeless  engagement  if  she  waits  for  you. 
There  is  so  much  about  her  character  that  is  noble  and  beau 
tiful,  that  I  almost  feel  as  if  you  had  done  her  an  injustice 
in  not  speaking  to  her  and  leaving  the  decision  with  her,  in 
stead  of  taking  it  wholly  upon  yourself.  Now  you  may  think 
to  yourself,  even  if  you  do  not  say  it  to  me,  that  I  am  talk- 
-ing  of  something  on  which  I  am  not  qualified  to  pass  judg 
ment,  for  I  have  never  been  in  love,  and  I  can  only 
conjecture  as  to  how  I  should  feel ;  but  I  am  very  certain 
that,  were  I  in  Hilda's  place,  I  should  like  it  better  to  be 
engaged  to  you,  even  if  I  had  to  wait  six  or  seven  years,  than 
to  be  left  in  this  way,  sure  that  you  love  her,  and  perhaps 
feeling  that  she  could  love  you,  had  she  the  right  to  do  so, 
and  yet  with  no  tie  between  you,  and  no  obligation,  on  either 
side.  She  is  terribly  proud,  and  what  I  most  fear  is,  that 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  211 

even  after  that  little  glimpse  of  herself  which  she  gave  me 
the  other  day,  she  will  have  a  sort  of  reaction,  and  be  so  dis 
gusted  with  herself,  that  she  will  almost  decide  to  accept 
Lieutenant  Jansen,  just  to  prove  that  she  has  never  really 
cared  for  you.  And  I  only  wish  that  it  did  not  take  so  long 
for  letters  to  come  and  go — I  should  so  rejoice  if  you  were  to 
receive  this  to-morrow,  instead  of  two  weeks  from  now. 
You  must  not  think  that  I  have  in  any  way  betrayed  confi 
dence  by  telling  you  all  this.  Hilda  did  not  so  much  as 
intimate  that  anything  she  said  was  not  to  be  repeated.  On 
the  contrary,  the  more  I  think  about  it  all,  the  more  it  seems 
to  me  that  she  had  a  sudden  impulse  to  let  you  know  in  this 
way  just  how  things  stood,  and  give  you  a  last  chance.  For 
I  think  it  is  the  last.  I  feel  nearly  sure  that  if  you  do  not 
speak  now,  her  pride  will  be  stung  to  the  quick,  and  she  will 
accept  Lieutenant  Jansen.  Dear  Leonard,  can  you  not  con 
fide  in  her  nobility,  and  at  least  leave  the  decision  with  her? 
Am  I  meddling?  I  love  you  both  so  much  that  you  must 
not  call  it  that.  Mamma  and  papa  send  fondest  love.  They 
long  to  see  you  again,  and  so  does  your  loving  sister, 

"Donis  CAMPBELL. 

"  P.  S. — I  must  add  a  line  about  Theo.  She  grows  sweeter 
and  brighter  and  funnier  every  day.  You  know  she  has 
never  talked  baby-talk,  and  the  way  in  which  she  wrestles 
with  the  longest  words  she  hears  keeps  us  laughing  half  the 
time.  She  is  very  loving,  and  it  troubles  her  greatly  when 
mamma  is  worse.  She  follows  me  everywhere,  and  ( helps' 
me  a  great  deal.  And  she  is  so  very,  very  pretty  that  I  shall 
hide  my  diminished  head  the  moment  she  '  comes  out.' 
Hilda  keeps  making  studies  of  her,  whenever  she  comes  here, 
and  I  have  secured  the  enclosed  for  you,  by  dint  of  persistent 
begging.  It  is  very  like,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  Hilda  has 
great  talent;  but,  for  some  reason  or  other,  her  art  does  not 


212  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

seem  to  interest  her  as  it  did  at  first.  I  think  we  all  miss 
Miss  Anna's  influence — I  know  I  do.  But  then,  I  also  miss 
my  beloved  piano.  D." 

Doris  was  quite  right  in  one  part  of  her  conjectures  con 
cerning  Hilda,  but  her  generous  and  unworldly  spirit  made 
her  do  rather  more  than  justice  to  the  feelings  and  motives 
of  her  more  sophisticated  friend.  Hilda's  character  had  sen 
sibly  deteriorated  in  the  winter  of  thoughtless  pleasure- 
seeking  which  she  had  spent  in  Frederickstadt,  and  her  inde 
cision  just  now  was  not  caused  wholly  by  the  pride  which 
undoubtedly  helped  to  influence  her.  She  knew  that,  even 
should  Leonard  succeed  remarkably  well,  it  would  be  many 
years  before  he  could  place  her  in  the  social  position  offered 
her  by  Lieutenant  Jansen,  if,  indeed,  he  were  ever  able  to  do 
so,  and  she  began  to  doubt  her  ability  to  face  a  life  of  small 
economies  and  petty  cares,  even  with  the  love  of  such  a  man 
as  Leonard  to  counterbalance  it.  She  had  shone  in  the  nar 
row  circle  of  Frederickstadt  society,  and  she  felt  very  sure 
that  she  should  shine  in  a  much  wider  and  more  brilliant 
sphere.  She  had  never  taken  the  smallest  interest  in  the 
conduct  of  the  house,  and  was  totally  ignorant  of  everything 
connected  with  it ;  and  a  vision  of  herself  buying  little  din 
ners,  superintending  the  cooking  thereof,  and  directing  one 
or  two  inefficient  servants,  instead  of  commanding  a  staff  of 
trained  ones,  contrasted  itself  with  another — that  of  the 
brilliant  career  which  probably  awaited  her,  should  she 
accept  Lieutenant  Jansen.  Beside  this,  she  had  not  quite 
forgiven  Leonard  for  the  firmness  which  enabled  him  to  leave 
Santa  Cruz  without  expressing  his  love  for  her  in  words. 
She  would  have  regarded  an  impetuous  and  unconsidered 
declaration  of  it  much  more  flattering  than  the  self-control 
which  he  had  exercised,  and  many  times  during  the  winter 
she  plunged  into  every  gaiety  the  town  afforded,  hoping  thus 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  213 

to  forget  him;  but  the  weariness  which  always  followed 
would  once  more  turn  her  thoughts  to  him,  and  to  his 
superiority  to  the  young  society-men  who  crowded  about 
her. 

She  could  not  account  for  the  impulse,  unusual  in  her 
calm  and  deliberate  nature,  which  had  made  her  so  nearly 
betray  herself  to  Doris,  but  she  regretted  it  almost  immedi 
ately  ;  and  long  before  she  reached  home  that  day  she  would 
have  given  much  to  be  able  to  efface  all  recollection  of  the 
visit,  not  only  from  Doris's  memory,  but  from  her  own  as 
well.  She  felt  enraged  with  herself  for  having  been  so  weak ; 
she  might  at  least,  she  reflected,  in  parting  with  Doris, 
have  charged  her  to  regard  their  talk  as  confidential,  and 
this  she  could  yet  do  by  writing  a  note.  But  when  she 
tried  to  do  this,  she  found  it  a  difficult  task.  Would  not 
Doris  see  at  once  through  the  whole  thing  ?  That  she, 
Hilda,  had  expected,  or  perhaps  even  wished  at  first  that 
the  conversation  should  be  repeated  to  Leonard,  and  had 
afterward  changed  her  mind?  But  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  Doris  might  suppose  that  it  was  solely  on  Hilda's  and 
Lieutenant  Jansen's  account  that  the  former  wished  to  have 
nothing  that  had  been  said  that  day  repeated. 

Encouraged  by  this  idea,  Hilda  sat  down  and  tried  to 
write  a  satisfactory  note,  but  she  did  not  succeed.  Word  it 
as  she  would,  it  seemed  to  her  to  betray  more  than  she 
wished  to  betray,  and  after  five  or  six  attempts  she  gave  up 
in  despair,  and  took  a  fresh  resolve,  which  she  hardly  ac 
knowledged  to  herself.  She  would  wait  four  weeks — no,  a 
month,  an  exact  calendar  month — and  if  at  the  end  of  that 
time  she  had  heard  nothing  from — anybody  which  would 
suggest  a  different  decision,  she  would  accept  Lieutenant 
Jansen.  She  managed,  during  this  month  of  waiting,  to 
preserve  her  usual  calm  and  quiet  demeanor,  but  it  required 
more  effort  to  do  this  than  she  liked  to  admit. 


214  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

When  she  and  Doris  met  again,  no  allusion  was  made  to 
their  last  talk  or  to  the  subjects  of  it,  but  Doris  noticed  with 
keen  pleasure  that  Hilda's  manner  had  regained  much  of  the 
friendliness  of  their  school-girl  days.  It  had  never  been 
demonstrative,  and  the  girls  had  always  said  that  a  touch  of 
the  hand  from  Hilda  meant  more  than  a  hug  from  any  of 
the  rest  of  them. 

Two  weeks  later,  Mr.  Campbell  came  in  from  his  morning 
round  of  the  plantation,  looking  warm  and  worried. 

"  I  don't  at  all  see  what  is  to  be  done/'  he  said,  wearily  ; 
"  I  can't  get  any  more  steady,  systematic  work  out  of  those 
fellows  than  if  they  were  so  many  children,  and  I  shall  not 
have  more  than  half-crops,  if  I  have  that  much.  If  I  could 
just  have  secured  our  own  people,  and  not  taken  any  strangers 
in,  I  think  it  might  have  been  different;  but  those  fellows 
that  I  took  to  fill  the  places  of  the  half-dozen  who  went  to 
the  States  are  making  mischief  all  the  time  and  stirring  up 
the  others  to  impudence  and  insubordination,  and  if  I  turn 
them  off,  the  next  will  be  just  as  bad.  I  wish  I  had  waited 
to  see  my  way  a  little  more  clearly,  before  I  began  on  the 
new  house.  This  is  pretty  bad,  but  it  is  free  from  debt,  at 
least,  and  I  am  afraid  I  must  mortgage  the  other,  if  I  hops 
ever  to  see  it  finished." 

Doris  was  young,  and  the  words 

"  You  know  mamma  and  I  begged  you  to  wait,  papa,"  rose 
to  her  lips,  but  the  past  few  months  had  taught  her  many 
things,  and  she  said,  instead  : 

"Here  is  your  linen  coat,  papa  dear;  give  me  that  hot 
thing  to  hang  up,  and  then  sit  down  and  rest,  you  look  so 
warm  and  tired,  and  mamma  will  wish  to  see  you  when  she 
wakes." 

He  took  off  the  black  alpaca  coat,  and  as  he  did  so  a  letter 
fell  from  the  pocket ;  Doris  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and,  as 
she  did  so,  she  saw  Leonard's  name,  in  her  own  handwriting. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  215 

For  a  moment  she  was  puzzled ;   then,  with  consternation 
in  face  and  voice,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh  papa!  It  is  my  letter  to  Leonard,  that  I  thought  he 
had  received  by  this  time.  How  in  the  world—  '  her 
voice  quivered,  and  ceased.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  disap 
pointment  was  more  than  she  could  bear. 

Mr.  Campbell  looked  troubled,  but  also  very  much  per 
plexed. 

"I  can't  tell  what  to  make  of  this,  at  all,  daughter,"  he 
said,  slowly.  "  It  has  never  crossed  my  mind  to  doubt  that 
I  sent  that  letter,  and— hand  me  the  coat  a  moment,  my 
dear,"  he  added,  speaking  with  sudden  excitement.  Doris 
gave  it  back  to  him,  and  he  drew  from  the  pocket  whence 
her  letter  had  fallen  another,  directed  in  his  own  clear  busi 
ness  hand. 

"  I  was  afraid  I  should  find  this,"  he  said,  despondently, 
"  as  soon  as  I  realized  the  truth  about  yours.  Well,  it  can 
not  be  helped,  now.  And  yet,  I  don't  know— a  mail  was 
being  made  up,  this  morning,  to  go  out  to-day;  perhaps  if  I 
go  at  once  I  may  still  be  in  time.  Give  me  your  letter, 
Doris  ;  where  is  my  hat  ?  " 

And  he  sprang  up,  forgetting  his  weariness,  and  the 
intense  heat,  for  it  was  now  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and 
even  in  the  carefully-closed  house  the  air  felt  warm  and 
oppressive. 

«  Oh  papa,  don't  go  ;  it  is  too  hot,  and  you  know  the 
vessel  was  to  sail  at  ten ;  please  don't  go  ;  you'll  be  ill. 
Mamma  will  be  so  troubled  ! " 

And  Doris  clasped  her  hands  coaxingly  about  his  arm. 
For  the  first  time  in  all  her  life  he  spoke  harshly  to  her, 
shaking  off  her  hands  as  he  spoke. 

"Do  not  act  in  this  childish  manner,  Doris,"  he  said,; 
"  the  ships  are  often  detained,  and  this  letter  must  go,  if  it 


216  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

is  at  all  possible — you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

"But,  papa!"  she  implored,  "let  Cudjoe  go;  he  is  here 
in  the  next  field;  he  will  do  just  as  you  tell  him;  please, 
please ! " 

She  had  followed  him  to  the  door,  for  he  made  no  pause 
in  his  hasty  preparation,  for  all  her  pleading.  Her  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears,  but  she  was  unconscious  of  this;  her 
whole  mind  was  bent  upon  detaining  him,  and  she  had 
no  thought  left  for  herself.  He  stooped  and  kissed  her 
hastily. 

"Dear  child,"  he  said,  kindly,  "you  don't  understand; 
this  was  my  answer  to  a  very  good  offer  for  this  year's  sugar- 
crop—much  depends  on  getting  it  oif,  and  I  dare  not  trust 
any  one;  go  in  out  of  the  heat;  good-bye." 

He  kissed  her  again,  and  was  gone  before  she  could  offer 
any  farther  remonstrance ;  but  she  saw  it  would  be  quite  use 
less  to  do  so.  She  had  heard  him  speak  of  this  offer  for  the 
sugar-crop,  and  knew  that  he  was  building  largely  upon  it 
to  extricate  him  from  his  present  difficulties,  and  she  was 
doubly  distressed — it  was  so  totally  unlike  him  to  forget  to 
mail  a  letter  so  important  as  he  had  evidently  considered 
this,  and  it  seemed  probable  that,  in  spite  of  all  effort  now,  it 
would  be  too  late.  But  it  was  time  to  take  in  the  late 
breakfast,  or  lunch,  as  we  should  call  it,  of  which  her  mother 
ate  so  sadly  little,  and  this  was  arranged  with  as  loving  and 
scrupulous  care  as  if  no  grief  nor  anxiety  were  weighing  her 
down.  She  would  not  allow  herself  to  think  about  the  letter 
to  Leonard,  just  now— that  must  wait ;  and  she  decided  to 
let  herself  believe,  for  the  present,  that  her  father  would 
succeed  in  catching  the  mail,  and  that  two  weeks  could 
make  no  important  difference — the  three  months  were  only 
half  gone,  and  surely  Hilda  would  not  be  hasty,  in  a  decision 
so  important  as  this.  She  was  thinking,  after  all!  And, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

with  a  resolute  effort,  she  began  to  talk  cheerfully  to  her 
mother,  as  she  arranged  the  little  table  by  her  bedside. 

Visitors,  who  saw  Mrs.  Campbell  at  longer  or  shorter  in 
tervals,  spoke  to  each  other  of  the  change  which  Doris  strove 
not  to  see.  A  gradual,  but  steady,  weakening  and  fading, 
the  laying  aside,  one  after  another,  of  interests  and  occupa 
tions,  rather  than  any  acute  symptom,  marked  the  progress 
of  disease.  Mr.  Campbell  and  Doris  spoke  hopefully  to  each 
other,  but  in  the  heart  of  each  was  an  unacknowledged  fear. 
Little  Theo,  alone,  of  all  the  family,  saw  nothing  but  joy  in 
her  daily  life.  Whether  sitting  quietly  by  her  mother's 
couch,  stroking  the  thin  hand,  and  telling  of  all  the  wonder 
ful  discoveries  which  came  with  every  day  of  unfolding  life, 
or  following  her  father  about  the  plantation  on  Dirck,  whom 
she  fearlessly  rode,  almost  before  she  could  walk,  or  trotting 
from  room  to  room,  " helping"  Doris,  her  face  shone  with 
happiness,  and  she  trilled  out  fragments  of  Doris's  songs, 
when  she  was  quite  sure  of  not  "  'sturbing  mamma,"  with  a 
readiness  at  catching  and  keeping  tunes  which  delighted  her 
older  sister.  She  little  dreamed  how  often  her  ignorant 
joyousness  raised  the  drooping  hearts  about  her,  or  how  the 
overflowing  love  of  her  heart  comforted  away  doubt  and 
care. 

Doris  left  her,  now,  sitting  by  her  mother,  while  she  her 
self,  possessed  by  a  strange  restlessness  and  apprehension, 
went  to  the  door  to  watch  for  her  father's  return.  She  had 
been  standing  there  some  time,  and  was  calling  herself 
foolish,  and  trying  to  reason  down  her  vague  apprehension, 
and  had  so  far  succeeded  that  she  was  about  to  turn  away 
from  the  door,  and  attend  to  some  of  her  housekeeping  cares, 
when  she  saw  Dr.  Svensen's  carriage  turn  in  at  the  gate,  and 
drive  rapidly  up  the  avenue.  She  felt  no  alarm  at  this,  for 
his  visits  were  frequent ;  he  could  do  little  for  Mrs.  Camp 
bell,  and  he  explained  to  Doris,  in  his  best  English,  that  at 
10 


218  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

least  two-tliirds  of  the  calls  made  by  him  were  merely  calls 
of  friendship,  such  as  anybody  might  make,  and  not  in  the 
least  professional.  But  he  noted  every  symptom,  and  every 
change  in  his  patient,  and,  without  mentioning  it  even  to  his 
daughter,  he  had  written  a  minute  description  of  the  case, 
and  a  request  for  an  opinion  to  a  famous  English  specialist, 
and  was  anxiously  waiting  his  reply. 

Doris  noticed,  as  he  alighted  and  hastily  tied  his  horse, 
without  waiting  for  her  to  call  a  servant,  that  his  florid, 
good-natured  face  was  unusually  pale  and  grave.  He  came 
quickly  up  the  step,  and  took  both  her  slender  hands  in  his 
large,  strong  ones. 

"  My  little  Doris,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  will  trust  you  to  be 
brave,  for  the  dear  mother's  sake.  Your  father  is  coming 
home  ill ;  he  will  be  here  presently.  Will  you  go,  quietly, 
and  make  ready  a  bed,  as  far  as  possible  from  the  mother's 
room,  and  where  he  may  be  taken  without  noise  ?  " 

Doris  tried  to  speak,  but  no  words  came ;  she  turned,  and 
led  the  way  into  a  room  near  the  door,  the  doctor  following 
her;  she  looked  the  question  her  lips  tried  to  frame,  and  he 
answered  as  if  she  had  spoken  : 

"  Yes,  this  will  be  very  well  indeed  ;  it  is  on  the  cool 
side  of  the  house,  it  is  neat,  the  bedstead  is  low.  You  will 
call  Pareen  to  make  ready  the  bed,  and  while  she  does  so,  I 
will  tell  you.  My  child — sit  down,  I  will  tell  Pareen  my 
self." 

Doris  sat  down.  She  did  not  feel  faint,  but  numbed  and 
stunned,  as  if  from  a  heavy  blow  ;  she  had  been  waiting 
long,  it  seemed  to  her,  for  this  blow  to  fall,  and  now  it  had 
fallen,  and  she  would  be  strong ;  oh  yes,  presently  she  would 
get  up,  when  that  curious  feeling  should  leave  her  knees, 
and  she  would  speak,  quite  calmly  and  distinctly,  when  the 
string  about  her  throat — she  raised  her  hand  ;  there  was 
nothing  there  ;  mechanically  she  stroked  and  rubbed  the 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  219 

spot  where  that  strangling  sensation  was,  and,  when  the 
doctor  came  back  with  Pareen,  she  stood  np  and  spoke. 

"  The  cotton  sheets,  Pareen,  not  the  linen ;  those  old,  soft 
ones  that  mamma  likes  best — you  know  where  they  are?" 

"  Yes,  Missy,  I  know — Missy  sit  right  still,  I'll  have  it  all 
right  for  Master — he  not  be  very  sick— he  so  strong,  he  be 
better  soon — Missy  mustn't  cry." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  cry,"  said  Doris,  quietly.  "  No,  doc 
tor,  you  need  not  be  afraid,  I  feel  quite  strong  and  well. 
Please  tell  me  now — I  would  rather  know." 

"Your  father  ran  through  the  hot  streets,  my  child,  only 
to  find  that  the  ship  had  sailed  an  hour  before  ;  he  went 
into  a  shop  near  the  wharf,  and  drank  much  cold  water,  and 
then,  as  they  told  me  afterward,  for  I  was  not  there  at  the 
time,  he  appeared  to  faint,  and  they  were  unable  wholly  to 
recover  him.  Some  one  was  sent  for  me,  and  I  saw  at  once 
how  it  was.  It  was  not  fainting.  A  month  ago  he  had  a 
slight— the  slightest  possible — stroke  of  paralysis.  He  for 
bade  me  to  tell  you,  but  I  must  tell  you  now,  for  this,  to 
day,  is  a  second  one,  more  severe.  All  of  one  side  is  para 
lyzed,  but  he  suffers  no  pain,  and  by  to-morrow  he  will  be 
able  to  speak  a  little — perhaps  by  to-night.  I  called  in  two 
or  three  of  his  friends,  and  left  them  to  finish  the  prepara 
tions  for  his  removal,  that  I  might  come  first,  and  tell  you  ; 
I  was  afraid  that,  if  I  waited  to  come  with  him,  the  alarm 
might  reach  your  dear  mother ;  now  we  can  keep  all  things 
quiet,  and  she  need  know  nothing  till  to-morrow  morning, 
when,  God  willing,  we  shall  have  him  much  better.  Can 
you  be  strong  for  a  few  hours,  my  dear  ?  " 

"I  think  so;  I  will  try,"  said  Doris  steadily.  "Hark!  I 
believe  they  are  coming  now  ;  Pareen,  go  very  softly,  and 
close  mamma's  door  ;  then  watch  outside  till  papa  is  safely 
in,  and  open  it  again,  that  she  may  not  notice." 

Doris  went  towards  the  front  door  as  she  spoke,  and 


220  DORIS  AND    7^HEODORA. 

opened  it  wide,  to  admit  the  four  negroes  who  bore  the 
hastily  improvised  litter  on  which  her  father  lay.  Mr.  Bar 
rett  walked  beside  it,  screening  his  face  from  the  ardent 
rays  of  the  sun  ;  but  the  other  gentlemen  who  had  assisted  in 
the  arrangements  had  decided  to  wait  at  a  little  distance,  in 
case  their  farther  help  should  be  needed,  rather  than  come 
to  the  house,  for  Dr.  Svensen  had  enjoined  the  strictest 
quiet,  and  so  well  was  his  injunction  obeyed,  that  even  had 
Mrs.  Campbell's  door  not  been  closed,  she  would  scarcely 
have  been  disturbed  by  the  soft  footsteps  and  carefully  low 
ered  voices  of  the  bearers.  Doris  had  dreaded  inexpressibly 
the  first  sight  of  her  father's  face,  for  her  only  knowledge  of 
the  effects  of  paralysis  was  derived  from  the  case  of  a  very 
old  negro  who  had  died  on  the  estate  many  years  before. 
She  had  never  been  able  to  forget  the  distorted  features  and 
rolling  eyes  of  this  poor  old  creature;  indeed,  time  had  ex 
aggerated,  rather  than  weakened  the  impression  made  by  the 
sad  sight,  and  she  feared  to  see,  she  scarcely  knew  what,  so 
that  the  relief  was  very  great  when  she  found  that  the  only 
changes  in  her  father's  face  were  a  death-like  pallor,  and  a 
slight  drawing-down  of  one  eye,  and  the  corner  of  the 
mouth.  He  had  regained  consciousness,  and  as  she  stood 
by  the  bedside,  after  Dr.  Svensen  and  Mr.  Barrett  had  ar 
ranged  him  comfortably  in  bed,  he  looked  wistfully  at  her, 
and,  she  was  sure,  tried  to  speak. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  in  clear,  low  tones,  "mamma  does  not 
know  that  you  are  ill,  and  we  will  not  tell  her  all  about  it 
until  to-morrow  morning,  when  Dr.  Svensen  says  you  will  be 
able  to  speak  again.  She  is  asleep  now,  I  think,  and  when 
she  wakes,  I  will  give  her  your  love,  and  tell  her  you  have 
come  home  tired,  and  not  feeling  very  well,  and  that  you 
went  to  bed  while  she  was  still  sleeping.  Will  that  be  as 
you  wish  ?  Can  you  press  my  hand  a  little  for  yes  ?  " 

A  feeble  pressure  from  the  hand  that  was  not  paralyzed 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  221 

answered  her,  and  a  look  of  relief  stole  over  the  drawn  face. 
She  had  divined  his  thought,  and  he  made  no  farther  effort 
to  speak.  Dr.  Svensen  gave  his  orders  for  the  afternoon  and 
evening,  promising  to  call  very  early  in  the  morning,  and 
urging  Doris  to  send  for  him  in  the  night,  if  there  should  be 
any  change.  He  would  come  again  at  bed-time,  if  lie  could 
possibly  manage  it,  he  said,  but  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
sickness  just  now,  and  he  feared  he  could  not  finish  his 
urgent  calls  in  time.  But  he  would  be  at  home,  certainly,  by 
midnight,  and  at  any  time  after  that  she  could  depend  upon 
his  coming  promptly,  should  she  send.  He  stooped  and 
kissed  her  forehead  as  he  said  good-bye  ;  this  very  nearly 
brought  the  tears,  but  not  quite  ;  she  could  not  afford  to  cry 
yet.  Dr.  Svensen  saw  Cudjoe  before  he  went,  and  told  the 
boy  to  remain  within  call  during  the  night. 

"  I  meant  to,"  Master,  he  replied,  simply ;  "  you  don't  think 
we'd  leave  our  little  Missy,  when  Master  is  like  that  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not,"  said  the  doctor.  "  1  wish  all  were  as 
faithf«l  and  grateful  as  you  and  Pareen  are.  Will  you 
softly  call  your  sister,  so  soon  as  I  am  gone,  and  tell  her  not 
to  let  Mrs.  Campbell  find  out  to-night  how  ill  her  husband 
is  ?  In  the  morning  she  will  be  stronger,  and  he,  I  trust, 
much  better.  With  great  care,  he  may  live  yet  for  many 
happy  years  ;  and  you,  I  know,  will  help  to  take  the  care." 

Cudjoe's  black  eyes  shone  with  tears  as  he  replied : 

"  I  will,  Master,  indeed  I  will.  He  was  good  to  my  father, 
and  father's  last  word  to  me  was  to  be  true  to  our  own  white 
folks." 

The  doctor  rode  reluctantly  away,  and  Cudjoe  hastened 
to  give  his  message  to  Pareen.  Mrs.  Campbell,  when  she 
woke,  was  so  feeble  as  to  alarm  the  faithful  girl,  who 
dared  not  call  Doris  from  her  father's  bedside,  and  she 
seemed  much  distressed  upon  being  told  that  Mr.  Camp 
bell  was  not  well,  but  she  was  utterly  unable  to  go  to  him, 


222  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

and  appeared  to  be  better  satisfied  when  told  that  Doris 
was  with  him.  Pareen  put  Theo  to  bed,  when  the  hour 
arrived,  and  the  little  girl,  after  asking  once  or  twice  for 
Doris,  and  being  told  that  papa  was  ill,  and  she  must  be 
very  quiet  and  good,  allowed  Pareen  to  undress  her,  and 
hear  her  say  her  evening  prayer,  adding  a  special  petition  for 
"papa  and  mamma  and  sister,  because  papa  is  ill,  and 
mamma  is  worse,  and  I  can't  kiss  sister  good-night,  to 
night!" 

Doris,  finding  that  there  was  no  change  in  her  father's 
condition,  called  Pareen  to  take  her  place,  and  spent  half  an 
hour  with  her  mother  just  before  the  latter  was  settled  for 
the  night,  saying,  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Campbell's  questions, 
that  her  father  was  quite  quiet,  and  would  no  doubt  be 
better  in  the  morning.  She  read  her  mother  a  chapter  from 
the  New  Testament,  as  usual,  and  her  voice  was  calm  and 
steady.  Then  she  said  good-night,  and  returning  to  her 
father's  room,  arranged  it  for  the  night.  She  had  had  a 
busy  morning,  and  she  was  dismayed  to  find  her  tyelids 
closing  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  remain  awake.  She 
reproached  herself  with  heartlessness,  with  want  of  fidelity 
to  her  trust,  and  was  on  the  verge  of  hysterical  tears,  when 
Pareen's  low  voice  called  her  into  the  passage.  A  little  pot 
of  hot,  strong  coffee,  with  some  bread  and  fruit,  was  tempt 
ingly  arranged  upon  a  tray,  and  then  Doris,  suddenly  remem 
bered  that  she  had  eaten  neither  lunch  nor  dinner. 

"Missy  will  eat  and  drink  to  keep  herself  strong,"  said 
Pareen,  coaxingly,  "  and  I  will  watch  Master  while  she  does 
it,  and  call  if  any  change  comes.  Now,  Missy  will  sit  down 
here  and  not  hurry,  but  drink  plenty  of  this  good  coffee,  and 
that  will  keep  her  awake,  like  it  was  broad  day,  all  night, 
and  to-morrow,  when  Master  is  better,  she  can  sleep  with 
good  heart." 

" Oh,  thank  you,  Pareen;  you  were  very  good  to  think  of 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  223 

it"  said  Doris,  gratefully.  "  I  am  hungry,  I  do  believe,  and 
the  coffee  will  be  sure  to  keep  me  awake,  because  I  am  not 
used  to  it." 

She  ate  and  drank  with  an  enjoyment  which  seemed  to  her 
heartless,  and  then,  refreshed  and  strengthened,  she  returned 
to  her  post  at  her  father's  bedside,  and  no  longer  found  it 
difficult  to  keep  awake.  Twice  more  in  the  course  of  the 
night  did  Pareen  beckon  her  out  to  take  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
when  Doris  begged  her  to  go  to  bed,  she  replied : 

"  I  am  sleeping  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  big  clock, 
Missy ;  then,  when  it  strikes,  I  wake  up,  and  I  get  good 
sleeps  between  the  times.  Missy  mustn't  fret  about  me, 
please ;  I'm  so  much  stronger  than  she  is,  and  she's  not 
sleeping  at  all." 

The  long,  dreary  night  wore  slowly  and  heavily  away,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Doris  sat  and  shivered  with  the 
chill  which  precedes  the  dawn,  and  listened  to  the  first  faint 
twitterings  and  rustlings  made  by  the  birds  and  fowls.  The 
only  other  time  when  she  had  been  up  all  night  was  upon 
the  occasion  of  the  ball  on  the  "  Thekla,"  and  what  a  vivid 
contrast  did  this  night  present  to  that!  Then  it  seemed  to 
her  that  life  was  a  joyous  thing;  she  had  had  no  fear, 
scarcely  a  thought,  of  illness  and  trouble ;  strength  and  health 
and  freedom  from  care  seemed  only  natural  and  proper. 
But  now,  even  should  her  father  live,  he  would  never  again 
be  as  he  had  been  before;  while  her  mother,  she  saw  it 
plainly,  was  slowly  fading  from  her  sight,  and  she  was 
powerless  to  save.  What  had  she  done  that  this  double 
sorrow  should  be  laid  upon  her  ?  Surely  her  punishment 
was  greater  than  she  could  bear  !  And  then  she  remem 
bered  the  night  of  Theo's  so  nearly  mortal  illness,  and 
"  Nana's  "  loving  words  : 

"  My  little  Missy,  does  you  tink  Mass'  Eobert  would  take 
de  little  baby,  or  you,  and  pinch  you  fingahs  in  de  doah  ? 


224:  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Dear  Fader  above  tell  us,  jus'  say  '  £)y  will  be  done/  'cause 
He  know  all  about  eberyting,  and  we  don'  know  nuffin'." 

Yes,  she  would  cling  to  that.  She  could  only  see  a  very 
little  way;  He  saw  to  the  end  of  the  patli  in  which  He  was 
guiding  her,  and  surely  she  could  trust  Him.  She  would 
try  to  live  just  a  day  at  a  time,  clinging  to  His  hand.  She 
knelt  by  the  bed  on  which  her  father  lay,  praying  silently 
for  "  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need,"  and,  as  she  knelt,  peace 
stole  into  her  heart,  her  overtaxed  nerves  relaxed,  and  she 
slowly  sank  upon  the  floor  in  profound  sleep. 

She  woke  at  the  end  of  an  hour  to  find  the  sun  shining, 
the  birds  singing,  and  her  father  looking  down  at  her  with 
loving  recognition  in  his  eyes, 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SHE  started  up,  frightened  to  think  how  long  she  might 
have  been  sleeping,  but  Pareen  was  at  her  side  in  an 
instant,  saying,  soothingly : 

"  Missy  only  been  asleep  an  hour  by  the  big  clock,  and 
Master  never  stirred ;  I  looked  in  every  few  minutes.  And 
Miss  Agnes  fast  asleep,  all  nice  and  comfortable.  Missy 
mustn't  be  scared  because  she  slept  a  little  when  she  was  all 
tired  out." 

"  My  poor  little  girl ! " 

It  was  Mr.  Campbell  who  spoke,  thickly  and  with  diffi 
culty;  but  to  Doris,  who  had  feared  that  she  might  never 
hear  his  voice  again,  no  music  could  have  been  so  sweet. 

She  kissed  him  fervently,  saying  : 

"  I'm  not  poor  at  all,  papa,  now  that  you  are  better  and 
can  speak  to  me  once  more.  I'm  a  very  bad  nurse,  though, 
and  deserve  a  good  scolding  for  sleeping  at  my  post,  but  you 
shall  not  give  it  to  me  till  you  have  had  some  breakfast  to 
make  you  stronger." 

He  smiled  and  stroked  her  hand  fondly,  but  made  no 
further  effort  to  speak,  and  as  soon  as  she  had  given  him 
the  food  and  medicine  directed  by  the  doctor,  and  made  him 
as  comfortable  as  he  could  be  made,  she  went  to  tell  her 
mother  of  his  illness.  Doctor  Svensen  had  quite  agreed  with 
Doris  in  thinking  that  this  was  best.  Mrs.  Campbell  would 
at  once  have  perceived  it  had  any  attempt  been  made  to  keep 
up  a  deception,  and  now  that  Mr.  Campbell  was  in  a  better 
condition,  and  she  could  truthfully  be  told  of  his  improve 
ment  and  the  hope  that  it  would  continue,  Doris  felt  that 


226  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

she  could  no  longer  bear  to  do  without  the  support  of  her 
mother's  loving  sympathy. 

Pareen  had  hovered  softly  between  the  two  rooms  since 
daylight,  and  so  far  had  reported  that  Mrs.  Campbell  was 
quietly  sleeping.  She  had  been  restless  and  wakeful  during 
the  early  part  of  the  night,  oppressed  by  that  feeling  of  im 
pending  trouble  for  which  it  is  impossible  to  account,  but 
which  many  have  experienced.  Toward  morning,  however, 
she  had  prayerfully  and  resolutely  conquered  her  vague 
doubts  and  fears,  and  then  exhaustion  asserted  itself,  and 
she  slept  long  and  soundly. 

Doris  stole  softly  into  the  room,  and  stood  silently  gazing 
at  the  lovely,  wasted  face,  through  which  the  sweet  soul 
shone,  like  light  through  alabaster.  There  was  a  look  of 
perfect  peace,  but  it  seemed  to  Doris  that  she  had  not  fully 
realized  before  how  thin  and  white  that  face  had  grown. 
She  crept  away  again,  unwilling  to  disturb  the  healing  sleep, 
and  another  hour  passed  before  the  sleeper  woke.  Then 
Doris  told  her,  as  gently  as  possible,  and  was  intensely 
thankful  for  the  calmness  with  which  her  mother  listened. 

"I  did  not  tell  you,  my  darling,"  Mrs.  Campbell  said, 
when  she  had  finished,  "  I  did  not  even  tell  your  father,  for 
I  wished  to 'spare  him  in  every  possible  way,  but  I  knew 
that  he  had  that  slight  shock  of  paralysis  a  month  ago,  and 
I  have  only  been  kept  from  a  life  of  hourly  dread  by  casting 
all  my  care  on  Him  who  careth  for  all  His  children.  And, 
daughter,  I  have  a  strange  feeling  of  certainty  that  my  phys 
ical  strength  will  come  back  in  answer  to  the  need.  I  did 
not  wish  to  give  you  needless  pain,  or  anticipate  trouble,  but, 
a  week  ago,  I  felt  sure  that  I  was  dying;  now  I  begin  to 
think  that  I  may  live.  If  papa  is  comfortable,  and  does  not 
need  you  just  now,  will  you  help  me  to  dress?  Pareen  is 
very  good,  but  no  one  helps  me  as  you  do,  darling,  and  I  am 
afraid  you  are  making  me  very  selfish." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  227 

"  Mamma  !  you  couldn't  be — but  do  you  really  think  you 
had  better  dress  so  early  in  the  day  ?  Will  Dr.  Svensen  like 
it?" 

"Yes,  dear  ;  I  told  him  yesterday  I  meant  to  try,  and  he 
encouraged  me.  You  know  he  has  great  faith — almost  too 
great,  I  sometimes  think— in  the  power  of  the  mind  over  the 
body.  And  I  will  be  quiet  and  careful  ;  you  must  not  look 
so  anxious,  my  precious— I  shall  do  nothing  rash,  if  only  for 
your  sake." 

The  dressing  was  accomplished  with  less  fatigue  to  her 
mother  than  Doris  feared,  and  little  Theo,  who  all  the  morn 
ing  had  been  supernaturally  good  and  quiet,  delightedly 
"  helped,"  trotting  from  wardrobe  to  bureau,  full  of  impor 
tance  and  good-will.  She  had  been  taken  in  an  hour  before 
to  see  her  father,  and  had  gently  stroked  "poor  papa's" 
pale,  drawn  face,  without  a  thought  of  repulsion  or  fear. 
She  had  none  of  the  shrinking  from  illness  which  children 
so  often  show  ;  on  the  contrary,  her  little  heart  seemed  irre 
sistibly  drawn  to  the  suffering  and  sorrowing,  and  the  ser 
vants  already  worshiped  her.  Doris  thanked  God  anew  every 
day  for  the  deep  comfort  of  this  ever-ready  love  and  tender 
ness,  and  on  looking  back  at  the  troubled  time  through  which 
she  was  now  passing,  the  recollection  of  it  ran  like  a  thread 
of  gold  through  a  dark  web. 

"  Now,  darling,  I  will  rest  here  a  few  minutes,  while  you 
tell  papa  that  I  am  coming,  and  arrange  a  chair  for  me  close 
to  his  bed,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  when,  tired  but  not  ex 
hausted,  she  sat  down,  her  toilet  quite  completed ;  and  Doris 
made  no  further  remonstrance. 

A  look  of  keen  pleasure  lighted  Mr.  Campbell's  face,  when 
Doris  told  him  that  his  wife  was  coming,  but  there  was  a 
little  questioning  anxiety  in  his  eyes  as  well,  and  he  tried  to 
say: 

"Is  she  able?" 


228  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Doris  understood,  and  answered  promptly: 

"Yes,  papa,  she  is  all  dressed,  and  seems  stronger  than 
she  has  been  for  a  good  while,  and  she  does  look  so  pretty 
that  I  feel  like  putting  a  veil  over  my  brown  phiz.  Give 
me  a  kiss  before  she  comes — you'll  not  want  to  kiss  such  a 
plain-looking  person  afterward." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  him,  and  he  clasped  the  well  arm 
closely  about  her  neck. 

Leaning  on  Doris  and  Pareen,  Mrs.  Campbell  came  slowly 
along  the  passage  and  into  the  room  where  her  helpless  hus 
band  lay.  No  words  were  needed  then. 

From  that  day  Mrs.  Campbell's  health  steadily  improved. 
She  would  never,  the  doctor  said,  be  very  strong,  or  equal  to 
any  great  exertion,  but  with  a  little  care  she  might  keep 
tolerably  well  and  comfortable.  It  seemed  to  Dons  that 
her  mother  had  been  given  back  to  her  almost  from  the 
grave,  and  the  strong  bond  of  love  and  sympathy  between 
them  waxed  stronger,  day  by  day. 

For  a  week  or  two  there  was  a  daily  and  marked  improve 
ment  in  Mr.  Campbell's  condition,  until  he  was  once  more 
up  and  about  the  house,  and  even  able  to  take  short  drives 
in  the  cool  of  the  morning  and  evening.  But  there  his  re 
covery  stopped.  The  paralyzed  leg  dragged  painfully  as  he 
walked,  his  speech  was  still  much  affected,  and,  what  to  his 
wife  and  daughter  seemed  worst  of  all,  his  memory  was  much 
impaired,  and  the  efforts  which  he  was  constantly  making  to 
recollect  events  and  circumstances,  and  even  to  find  the 
words  in  which  to  express  his  thoughts,  irritated  him  to  a 
painful  degree.  Still  more  painful  was  the  penitence  and 
sense  of  humiliation  which  were  sure  to  follow  these  sudden 
and  unwonted  outbursts  of  temper,  and  only  his  wife  could 
really  soothe  and  comfort  him  at  such  times.  To  little 
Theo  alone  was  he  invariably  gentle  and  patient,  and  some 
times  her  childish  talk  and  eager  pleasure  in  her  small 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  229 

affairs  could  rouse  and  interest  him  when  all  else  failed  to 
do  so.  lie  did  not  seem  to  suffer  any  pain,  and  although, 
as  Dr.  Svensen  thought  it  right  to  tell  them,  the  third  stroke 
of  paralysis  would  in  all  probability  be  mortal,  he  had  hope 
of  averting  it  for  a  long  time,  and-  even  of  very  much  im 
proving  Mr.  Campbell's  present  condition.  All  excitement 
and  anxiety  were  to  be  avoided;  he  was  to  be  kept  as  much 
as  possible  from  business  or  care  of  any  kind,  and  not  to  be 
thwarted  or  opposed,  when  it  could  possibly  be  helped.  But 
as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  walk  with  no  assistance  save  that 
of  a  stout  cane,  he  insisted  upon  resuming  his  daily  round 
of  the  plantation,  and  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to  allow 
Cudjoe  always  to  accompany  him.  The  faithful  fellow, 
quietly  watchful,  and  acting  with  rare  judgment  and  consid 
eration,  averted  many  a  misunderstanding  and  misfortune, 
while  managing  rarely  to  excite  Mr.  Campbell's  displeasure 
against  himself.  Fortunately,  most  of  the  laborers  on  the 
plantation  were  the  former  slaves,  and  nearly  all  were  friendly 
to  Cudjoe ;  but  a  few,  even  of  these,  were  jealous  of  his  su 
periority,  and  those  who  had  been  brought  in  from  outside 
were  especially  so.  Powerless  to  help  it,  Mrs.  Campbell  and 
Doris  saw  only  too  plainly  that  much  was  going  wrong,  in 
spite  of  all  Cudjoe's  honest  and  earnest  endeavors.  During 
the  earlier  part  of  Mr.  Campbell's  illness,  when  his  wife  and 
daughter,  absorbed  by  anxiety  and  care,  had  been  able  to 
give  but  little  attention  to  outdoor  affairs,  and  when  Cudjoe 
had  of  necessity  been  much  in  the  house,  time  and  oppor 
tunity  had  been  wasted  in  a  manner  for  which  no  after- 
diligence  could  atone.  And  worse  than  this,  when,  after  a 
tedious  delay,  Mr.  Campbell's  correspondent  was  again  heard 
from,  their  fears  were  realized,  for  the  offer,  not  having  been 
accepted  when  it  was  first  made,  was  now  definitely  with 
drawn  ;  and  it  was  becoming  apparent  that  the  sugar  crop 
this  year  would  fall  far  short  of  its  usual  weight,  even  should 


230  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

it  be  equal  in  quality  to  that  of  better  years,  which  seemed 
doubtful.  Mr.  Campbell  himself  perceived  this,  but  the 
failure  of  his  memory  had  its  merciful  side,  for  sometimes, 
when  he  was  most  troubled  and  distressed,  a  skillful  turn  in 
the  conversation  would  entirely  divert  his  mind.  It  was 
now  that  it  occurred  to  Doris  to  sing  without  her  piano. 
She  had  taken  a  few  lessons  on  the  guitar  a  year  or  two 
before,  but  she  had  never  cared  very  greatly  for  it ;  now, 
however,  she  thankfully  accepted  the  loan  of  Hilda's  guitar, 
and  began  to  practice,  delighted  with  her  father's  almost 
childish  pleasure  in  her  singing.  Little  Theo  began  to  join 
her  voice  to  her  older  sister's,  and  Doris  soon  found  that  she 
could  give  up  the  air  of  several  easy  songs  to  the  child,  with 
perfect  confidence,  while  she  herself  sang  contralto  to  the 
high,  pure  soprano  of  the  little  girl.  From  the  time  when 
these  concerts  began  to  be  given  for  Mr.  Campbell's  benefit 
every  evening,  just  before  Theo  went  to  bed,  his  irritability 
decreased,  and  no  matter  how  disturbed  or  distressed  he  had 
been  during  the  day,  the  evening  ended  calmly  and  pleasant 
ly.  That  it  frequently  required  an  heroic  effort  on  Doris's 
part  to  perform  this  self-imposed  task,  need  scarcely  be  said  ; 
but  it  brought  its  own  reward,  in  the  effect  it  had  upon  her 
own  spirit.  She  had  felt  keenly  the  loss  of  her  piano,  and 
the  sudden  breaking  off  from  the  occupation  she  so  dearly 
loved,  but  it  had  not  occurred  to  her,  until  Hilda  suggested 
it,  that  she  might  keep  up  her  singing  with  a  guitar-accom 
paniment.  She  had  hesitated  too,  at  first,  about  borrowing 
the  guitar,  even  though  the  offer  of  it  from  Hilda  was  quite 
spontaneous  and  evidently  sincere;  but  she  sacrificed  the 
feeling  which  made  her  hesitate  to  the  stronger  one  which 
urged  her  to  try  any  and  every  lawful  means  to  gratify  her 
father.  It  was  a  joyful  evening,  in  spite  of  present  and 
anticipated  trouble,  when  Mrs.  Campbell,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  months,  took  part  in  the  concert,  and  tears  sprang 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  231 

to  Doris's  eyes  as  she  saw  the  look  of  fond  admiration  with 
which  her  father  regarded  her  mother  as  the  latter  sang. 

"You  have  a  sweet  voice,  Doris,"  he  said,  at  the  first 
pause,  "  a  very  sweet  voice ;  but  it  will  never  equal  your 
mother's,  though  it  is  something  like  it." 

"  That  is  what  papa  thinks,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  smiling 
fondly  on  Doris;  "  /think  that  my  voice,  at  its  best,  never 
equaled  my  daughter's." 

Doctor  Svensen  continued  to  come  frequently,  keeping 
close  and  faithful  watch  over  both  his  patients,  and  Doris 
could  see  that  he  was  disappointed  that  her  father's  improve 
ment  did  not  continue.  He  spoke  cheerfully,  and  would  not 
admit  that  he  was  discouraged,  but  one  reason  for  the  fre 
quency  of  his  visits  was  the  apprehension  that  some  sudden 
trouble  or  annoyance  would  cause  the  third  and  probably 
mortal  stroke.  His  visits  always  did  Mr.  Campbell  good, 
apart  from  their  medical  value,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  and 
Doris  felt  that  they  could  never  be  grateful  enough  to  their 
old  friend  for  his  unceasing  care  and  faithful  friendship. 

As  soon  as  the  pressure  of  immediate  anxiety  about  her 
father  was  removed,  Doris's  mind  turned  toward  Leonard, 
and  that  letter  which,  after  all,  had  never  gone.  It  was 
found,  with  the  other  which  should  have  been  sent,  and  was 
not,  in  Mr.  Campbell's  pocket,  during  his  severe  illness,  and, 
as  there  was  no  immediate  opportunity  of  sending  it,  Doris 
opened  it,  intending  to  add  an  account  of  her  father's  condi 
tion,  and  anything  which  she  might  learn  farther  about 
Hilda.  But  hands  and  heart  were  full,  and  another  fort 
nightly  mail  slipped  away  from  her,  before  she  realized  that 
the  time  had  come  round  again.  She  resolved  to  be  before 
hand  with  the  next  one,  and  wrote  a  little  from  time  to  time, 
as  opportunity  offered.  She  told  Leonard  freely  of  all  the 
trouble  which  the  plantation  was  giving,  and  of  Doctor  Sven- 
sen's  warning,  that  anxiety  of  mind  might,  and  very  proba- 


232  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

bly  would,  cause  her  father  to  have  another  shock  of  paralysis; 
but  she  did  this  from  the  sisterly  habit  of  telling  him  all 
family  news,  sure  of  his  interest  and  sympathy,  and  not  dream 
ing  that  what  she  said  would  have  any  influence  upon  his  plans 
and  prospects.  The  time  for  the  closing  of  the  mail  was 
approaching,  and  she  had  nearly  finished  her  letter,  when 
Hilda  called,  and  Doris,  glad  of  the  chance  to  give  such  late 
news  of  her,  left  the  letter  open,  and  went  to  the  parlor  to 
meet  her  friend.  It  struck  her  at  once  that  Hilda's  manner 
was  constrained  and  unnatural,  and  she  found  it  very  diffi 
cult  to  sustain  the  conversation  between  them.  She  was 
wondering  what  had  happened,  and  if  she  could  have  given 
offense  in  any  way,  when  Hilda  said,  abruptly: 

"  I  came  to-day  especially  to  tell  you  something,  Doris,  in 
fulfillment  of  an  old  promise.  Do  you  remember,  the  last 
year  we  were  at  school,  how  you  and  I  promised  each  other 
to  tell  of  our  engagements,  if  we  should  ever  be  engaged,  to 
one  another  first  of  all,  after  our  mothers  knew  it  ?  I  ac 
cepted  Lieutenant  Jansen  yesterday,  and  the  engagement  is 
to  be  announced  next  week.  We  are  to  be  engaged  for  a 
year,  and  then  he  is  going  to  sell  his  commission,  and  take 
me  to  the  place  he  has  inherited,  in  Copenhagen,  where 
we  shall  spend  our  winters  ;  in  summer,  we  shall  live  on  the 
estate,  which  is,  I  believe,  a  fine  one,  with  a  large  and  hand 
some  house  upon  it." 

Hilda  said  all  this  very  much  as  if  she  were  repeating  a 
lesson,  while  Doris  sat  mute,  unable,  for  the  moment,  to 
frame  a  suitable  reply.  Warm  words  of  reproach  and  re 
monstrance  rose  to  her  lips,  but  common  sense  told  her  that 
they  would  be  worse  than  useless,  and  she  succeeded  in 
repressing  them.  She  was  unable,  however,  wholly  to  control 
the  expression  of  her  face,  and  Hilda,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
answered  this  as  if  she  had  spoken. 

"  Don't  annihilate  me  with  your  great  eyes,  Doris;   I  am 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  233 

not  about  to  do  anything  dreadful.  The  more  I  see  of  Lieu 
tenant  Jansen  the  better  I  like  him  ;  I  even  love  him  a 
little,  now,  and  I  have  faith  to  believe  that  he  will  make  me 
very  happy  indeed.  I  like  money,  and  a  good  position,  and 
plenty  of  admiration  and  applause,  and  all  these  I  shall  se 
cure  by  my  marriage  with  him.  He  worships  me,  and  would 
do  far  more  to  please  me  than  I  shall  ever  exact  of  him, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  the  least  exacting  of  men. 
Come,  Doris,  be  reasonable,  and  nice,  and  believe  that  I 
know  my  own  affairs,  and  congratulate  me  politely!" 

Doris  tried  to  speak,  but  no  voice  came  ;  instead,  a  passion 
of  sobbing  shook  her,  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Grief  and  indignation  were  too  strong  for  her — grief,  that 
Hilda  should  thus  tread  down  all  the  better  part  of  her 
nature,  and  indignation  for  the  suffering  which  she  knew 
this  news  would  cause  to  Leonard.  It  seemed  to  her  that, 
had  Hilda  really  and  spontaneously  loved  Lieutenant  Jansen, 
the  sting  would  not  have  been  so  sharp  ;  but  that  she  should 
thus  coolly  and  deliberately  decide  to  accept  him,  for  the 
sake  of  money  and  position,  when  her  heart  was  inclined  to 
some  one  else,  was  so  totally  abhorrent  to  Doris's  nature, 
that  she  could  frame  no  words  of  pretended  congratula 
tion. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Hilda,"  she  said,  sorrowfully,  when  she 
could  command  her  voice.  "  You  know  well  enough  that  I 
cail't — and  why.  There's  no  use  in  talking  about  it.  Per 
haps  after  awhile  I  may  be  able  to  say  that  I  hope  you  will 
be  happy,  but  I  can't  do  even  that  much,  now.  I  feel 
wicked.  What  made  you  come  and  tell  me  all  this  ?" 

"  Merely  because  of  my  promise,"  replied  Hilda,  gravely, 
but  not  angrily.  "  You  may  be  very  sure,  Doris,  that  I  did 
not  covet  the  undertaking ;  but  I  did  hope  that  you  would 
at  least  not  treat  me  uncivilly.  Just  reflect  a  little,  my  dear, 
and  do  not  allow  your  feelings  so  completely  to  sway  your 


234  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

judgment.  I  was  totally  free — un  trammeled  by  so  much  as 
an  implication  ;  mamma  not  only  approved  Lieutenant  Jan- 
sen's  suit,  but  even  urged  me,  if  I  could  bring  myself  to  love 
him,  to  accept  him.  I  have  carefully  studied  his  character, 
and  the  more  I  see  of  it  the  better  I  like  it.  He  is  manly, 
honest,  intelligent,  and  every  inch  a  gentleman ;  and  added 
to  this,  he  loves  me,  as  I  truly  believe,  with  his  whole  heart. 
I  have  told  him  that  I  cannot  give  him  such  love  as  he 
offers  me — that  the  affection  I  feel  for  him  is  very  calm  and 
sisterly  ;  but  he  maintains  that  this  will  grow— that  if  I  will 
only  give  him  the  opportunity,  he  will  win  my  love,  and  I 
am  beginning  to  think  that  he  can  do  it.  Now,  what  is 
there  in  all  this  to  excite  you  to  such  fiery  indignation 
against  me  ?  " 

Doris  fought  hard,  for  a  moment,  with  her  impulse  to 
speak  out  all  that  was  in  her  heart,  but  it  was  too  strong  for 
her  common  sense,  and  she  said,  impetuously: 

"Where  is  the  use,  Hilda,  in  our  pretending  like  this, 
when  we  both  know  so  well  that  Leonard  loves  you,  and 
when,  whatever  you  may  think  yourself,  I  am  nearly  sure 
that  you  love  him,  or  did  love  him  a  few  weeks  ago  ?  " 

Hilda  grew  a  shade  paler,  but  she  answered,  with  her 
usual  deliberate  calmness  : 

"  Since  you  have  taken  off  your  gloves,  Doris,  I  also  will 
take  off  mine,  but  only  for  this  once ;  after  that,  we  will 
never  again  speak  upon  this  subject,  if  you  please.  If 
Leonard  Campbell's  love  had  been  worth  calling  by  the 
name,  he  would  not  have  gone  calmly  away  this  last  time, 
knowing,  as  he  must  have  known,  that  he  had  a  rival.  But 
even  after  that,  there  was  one  more  opportunity.  I  was 
weak  and  silly  enough  to  tell  you  that  which,  if  he  had 
cared  for  me  at  all,  must  have  led  him  to  say  so;  for  I  laid 
no  restriction  upon  you,  and  felt  tolerably  sure  that  you 
would  tell  him;  and  what  was  the  result?  Nothing;  just 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  235 

absolutely  nothing,  except  that  I  have  received  a  well- 
deserved  lesson  for  so  far  forgetting  myself,  and  so  utterly 
lowering  my  dignity  as  I  did  that  day." 

"  Oh  Hilda,  you  didn't — I  never  loved  you  so  well  as  I  did 
then  ! "  cried  Doris,  in  eager,  trembling  tones  ;  "  and  Leonard 
was  not  to  blame — the  letter  never  went !  I  gave  it  to  papa, 
just  before  he  was  struck  down  by  that  dreadful  illness— two 
weeks  before,  that  is,  and  he  had  so  much  worriment  and 
trouble  on  his  mind  that  he  forgot  to  mail  it;  then  he  found 
it,  together  with  a  most  important  business  letter,  in  his 
pocket,  just  after  the  next  mail-ship  had  sailed;  and  it  was 
his  over-exertion,  hoping  he  might  still  be  in  time  to  send 
the  letters,  which  brought  on  the  illness.  Doctor  Svensen 
said  he  might  have  lived  for  months,  or  even  years,  with 
out  another  stroke,  if  it  had  not  been  for  that.  Then, 
while  papa  was  so  very  ill,  I  missed  another  mail,  and  to 
day,  just  as  you  came,  I  was  adding  a  second  postscript, 
and  meant  to  give  it  to  Cudjoe  to  take  to  Mr.  Barrett  this 
afternoon,  and  have  it  put  among  his  mail,  that  it  might  be 
sure  to  go  to-morrow.  There  seems  to  have  been  a  fate 
about  it." 

Hilda  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"It  does,  indeed,  seem  so,"  she  said,  quietly.  "You  will 
not  send  it  now,  of  course  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  Doris,  mournfully,  "unless — oh  Hilda! 
Can't  you  tell  Lieutenant  Jansen  all  about — everything,  and 
ask  him  to  set  you  free,  even  yet  ?  " 

"I  have  nothing  to  tell  him,"  said  Hilda;  "and  even  if 
I  had  much,  I  have  pledged  him  my  word,  and  that  I  never 
break.  And  I  tell  yon,  Doris,  once  for  all,  that  you  must 
have  been  mistaken  about  Leonard — he  has  never  loved  me, 
and  I  can  only  be  thankful  that  I  have  been  withheld  from 
loving  him,  and  that  the  letter  was  so  curiously  hindered 
from  reaching  him." 


236  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  You  don't  understand  Leonard — you  do  him  utter  in 
justice  !"  said  Doris,  struggling  hard  not  to  let  herself  cry 
again.  "It  was  because  he  loved  you  so  truly,  that  he 
would  not  ask  you  to  pledge  yourself  to  him,  when  he  had 
no  certain  prospect,  and  it  might  be  years  before  he  could 
marry." 

"  So  that  was  his  estimate  of  me ! "  said  Hilda,  scornfully, 
adding,  with  a  little  sigh : 

"  And  when  he  hears  of  this,  he  will  conclude  that  it  was 
perfectly  just;  and  I  am  inclined  to  the  same  opinion.  You 
have  all  over-estimated  me,  Doris,  but  not  more  than,  for 
awhile,  I  over-estimated  myself.  Theories  are  very  grand  and 
beautiful  things,  but  in  reality,  one's  daily  comfort  and  hap 
piness  depend  upon  very  small,  common-place  affairs,  with 
which  theories  have  nothing  whatever  to  do.  And  as  for 
plans  and  resolutions — there  is  no  use  in  making  them,  not 
the  very  slightest  use ! " 

"  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you  talk  in  that  way,  Hilda,"  said 
Doris,  "and  I  don't  believe  you  really  feel  so — you  are  only 
trying  to  make  yourself  think  that  you  do.  Comfort  and 
happiness  are  good  things  to  have,  if  they  come  incidentally, 
but  I  am  sure  you  do  not  think,  any  more  than  I  do,  that 
they  were  intended  for  aims  and  objects !  Don't  you  remem 
ber  that  line  from  Thomas  a  Kempis  of  which  Antoinette  is 
so  fond  :  l  As  for  comforts,  leave  them  to  God;  let  Him  do 
therein  as  shall  best  please  Him '  ? " 

"That  is  very  well  for  Antoinette,  Doris — poor  child, 
there  is  but  little  earthly  comfort  for  her!  But  to  a  young, 
strong,  healthy  person,  the  desire  for  life  and  freedom  and 
happiness  is  only  natural,  and  a  state  of  mind  like  Antoi 
nette's,  in  such  a  person,  would  be  morbid  and  unnatural. 
No  one  can  be  young  more  than  once,  and  there  are  certain 
pleasures  and  enjoyments  which  are  possible  only  while  one 
is  young.  Now  I  must  go — but  promise  me,  first,  that  when 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  23? 

you  write  to  Leonard  you  will  simply  mention  my  engage 
ment,  without  note  or  comment,  and  that  you  will  at  once 
burn  that  detained  letter." 

There  was  more  irnperiousness  in  Hilda's  tone  and  man 
ner  than  she  was  herself  aware  of,  and  Doris  came  near 
making  a  haughty  reply,  but  she  reflected  in  time  upon  the 
uselessness  of  this,  and  managed  to  say  quietly  enough : 

"  I  shall  destroy  the  letter,  Hilda,  of  course ;  but  I  do  not 
consider  that  I  am  bound  to  promise  you  anything  as  to 
what  I  shall  or  shall  not  write.  I  think  you  may  safely  trust 
me  to  say  nothing  that  will  hurt  your  pride." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  may,"  said  Hilda,  absently,  and  ap 
parently  quite  unaware  that  anything,  either  in  the  matter 
or  manner  of  what  she  had  said,  was  calculated  to  give 
offence.  (t  Good-bye,  Doris ;  good-bye,  my  dear ! " 

And,  to  Doris's  astonishment,  Hilda  threw  both  arms 
about  her  neck,  and  kissed  her  warmly. 

This  was  part  of  the  letter  which  went  to  Leonard  next 
day,  in  place  of  the  long  communication  which  had  so  nearly 
gone. 

"MY  DEAR  LEONARD  : 

"  Do  not  imagine,  because  you  have  not  heard  from  me 
of  late,  that  I  have  not  written ;  a  letter  was  detained  acci 
dentally,  several  weeks  ago  ;  and  so  much  has  happened 
since,  that  I  must  write  a  new  one,  instead  of  merely  adding 
to  the  old  one.  Papa  has  been  very  ill — so  ill,  that  for 
awhile  we  scarcely  hoped  for  his  life;  he  is  better  now,  but 
I  fear  he  will  never  again  be  well.  It  is  paralysis,  and  I 
found  that  he  had  already  had  one  slight  shock,  a  month  be 
fore  this  very  serious  one.  The  doctor  fears  that  any  great 
trouble  or  agitation  may  cause  a  third  and  mortal  stroke ; 
and  you  may  imagine  the  anxiety  we  hourly  feel,  for  things 
are  going  badly  on  the  plantation,  and  there  is  much  to 


238  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

trouble  him,  even  were  he  quite  well  and  strong.  But  one 
of  the  saddest  features  of  the  disease — the  frequent  failure 
of  his  memory — makes  it  easier  for  us  to  keep  him  cheerful. 
He  insisted  so  strenuously  upon  resuming  his  morning 
round  of  the  plantation,  that  Dr.  Svensen  thought  it  best  to 
oppose  him  in  the  matter  no  longer ;  so  he  goes  every  morn 
ing,  accompanied  by  Cudjoe,  whose  faithfulness  and  devo 
tion  are  the  greatest  comfort.  He  frequently  comes  in  very 
much  annoyed  by  what  he  has  seen  and  heard,  but  it  is  com 
paratively  easy  for  mamma  and  me,  and  even  for  dear  little 
Theo,  to  turn  his  thoughts  into  another  channel,  and  make 
him  forget  whatever  is  troubling  him.  And  how  often 
good  conies  out  of  evil  !  You  know  how  steadily  mamma's 
health  has  declined  since  the  night  of  the  rebellion.  She 
has  been  wasting  away  before  our  eyes,  and  nothing  seemed 
to  help  her;  but  when  papa  was  taken  so  ill,  she  really 
seemed  to  conquer  her  weakness  by  sheer  force  of  will ;  she 
stays  up  nearly  all  day,  now ;  she  has  begun  to  drive  out 
again ;  and  I  can't  help  hoping  that  she  may  yet  be  entirely 
well.  Papa  does  not  seem  happy  long  when  she  is  out  of  his 
sight,  and  it  goes  to  my  heart  to  see  how  he  looks  at  her.  I 
cannot  see  what  is  to  become  of  things  here.  Neither 
mamma  nor  I  know  enough  about  the  management  of  the 
plantation  to  give  orders  intelligently;  and,  faithful  and 
good  as  Cudjoe  is,  he  cannot,  of  course,  be  expected  to  fill 
papa's  place.  I  wish  we  knew — mamma  and  I — about  papa's 
investments  in  America.  He  never  said  much  to  mamma 
about  his  business  affairs,  and  all  we  know  is,  that  several 
years  ago  he  withdrew  his  money  from  England,  and  in 
vested  it  somehow  in  the  States.  He  said  it  brought  him 
much  more  interest,  but  so  far  as  we  know,  he  has  received 
nothing  from  it  for  the  last  three  months,  at  least.  Do  you 
know  anything  about  it?  Please  tell  us,  if  you  do.  It  seems 
heartless,  almost,  to  be  thinking  and  talking  so  much  about 


DORIS  AND   THEODORA.  239 

it  now,  but  we  can't  help  feeling  uneasy,  far  more  upon 
papa's  account  than  upon  our  own.  I  have  said  all  this 
first,  partly  because  I  am  a  coward,  and  feel  really  afraid  to 
tell  you  what  I  heard  to-day.  Dear  Leonard,  how  my  heart 
aches  for  you.  Hilda  was  here  this  afternoon,  and  she 
came  expressly  to  fulfil  a  foolish  compact  into  which  we  en 
tered  while  we  were  at  school  together — a  promise  to  tell 
each  other,  next  after  our  mothers,  when,  or  if,  we  should 
be  engaged  to  be  married.  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  but 
it  seems  Hilda  had  not,  and  she  would  die  rather  than  break 
her  word,  even  in  a  trifling  matter.  You  will  guess  now 
what  it  was  that  she  came  to  tell  me — she  is  engaged  to 
Lieutenant  Jansen;  and  they  are  to  be  married  in  a  year.  I 
think  that,  in  her  queer,  cool  way,  she  really  does  love  him, 
(Doris  had  nearly  written  "  a  little,"  but  stopped  herself  in 
time)  and  there  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  he  loves  her  a 
great  deal.  I  will  not  be  so  foolish  as  to  try  to  comfort  you, 
now,  but,  dear  brother,  I  will  pray  that  you  may  be  com 
forted." 

Doris  was  far  from  satisfied  with  her  letter,  when  it  was 
finished,  but  she  had  no  time  left  to  re-write  it,  for  the  mail- 
ship  sailed  next  day,  and  it  must  go.  this  time.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  her  news  would  come  to  Leonard  with  cruel  ab 
ruptness,  let  her  preface  it  as  she  might,  and  she  sighed  as 
she  thought  of  the  sorrow  it  would  cause.  Again  she  felt 
her  indignation  toward  Hilda  rising,  and'  she  could  not  suc 
ceed  in  convincing  herself  that  it  was  unreasonable. 

But  when  the  letter  was  fairly  gone,  she  breathed  more 
freely,  and  her  naturally  hopeful  temperament  came  to  her 
aid.  Leonard  would  surely  cease  to  care  for  Hilda,  when 
he  knew  for  a  certainty  that  she  cared  for  some  one  else;  he 
was  too  right-minded,  Doris  argued  with  herself,  not  to. 
And  perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  best — Hilda  was  so  icy  cold, 


240  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

that  she  would  surely  have  disappointed  him,  even  had  she 
been  willing  to  wait  all  those  tedious  years.  And  would  she 
have  heen  willing  to  wait,  even  if  Lieutenant  Jansen  had  not 
appeared  upon  the  scene  ?  Doris  doubted  it. 


CHAPTER    XY. 

BEFORE  this  last  letter  of  Doris's  reached  Leonard,  he 
had  begun  to  debate  with  himself  the  question  whether 
he  ought  not  to  give  up,  at  least  for  the  present,  his  plans 
and  prospects,  and  return  to  Santa  Cruz,  to  see  if  he  could 
avert  the  crisis  which  seemed  to  be  impending  over  the 
home  which  had  so  generously  sheltered  him. 

It  would  be  years,  according  to  the  programme  which  he 
had  set  down  for  himself,  before  he  could  be  of  the  slightest 
assistance  to  his  uncle,  and  it  was  becoming  evident  to  him 
that  help,  to  be  of  any  avail,  must  be  given  promptly.  He 
knew  only  too  well  the  nature  of  his  uncle's  investments  ; 
the  usual  risk  had  been  taken,  in  obtaining  a  high  interest 
on  the  money ;  for  awhile,  all  had  gone  prosperously,  or  had 
appeared  to  do  so,  but  of  late  unpleasant  rumors  had  been 
afloat  concerning  the  two  companies  in  which  not  only  Mr. 
Campbell,  but  several  of  the  planters— Mr.  Barrett  among 
the  number — had  invested  their  spare  capital,  and  soon  after 
the  receipt  of  Doris's  letter,  the  rumors  became  a  certainty, 
of  ruin,  total  and  final.  A  faint  hope  of  a  payment  of  ten 
cents  on  the  dollar  was  at  first  held  out,  but  this  was  with 
drawn,  before  long,  and  Leonard  found  himself  confronted 
with  the  terribly  painful  task  of  writing  about  this  sad  news 
either  to  his  aunt  or  Doris ;  he  knew,  from  what  the  latter 
had  told  him  of  her  father's  condition,  that  the  letter  must 
not  be  written  to  him.  The  more  Leonard  thought  the 
matter  over,  the  more  impossible  it  seemed  to  him  to  write 
this  letter,  and  then  to  go  calmly  on  with  his  studies,  while 
his  adopted  parents  and  sister  were  struggling  with  poverty 
11 


242  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

and  trouble.  He  was  feeling  bitterly  the  tidings  of  Hilda's 
engagement,  reproaching  alternately  himself  and  her — him 
self  for  not  having  risked  everything,  and  tried,  at  least,  to 
obtain  a  promise  from  her,  and  her,  for  not  having  under 
stood  him  without  an  explanation.  He  found  great  difficulty 
in  fixing  his  thoughts  upon  any  other  subject,  and  came 
very  near  neglecting  his  work  in  a  manner  calculated  to 
affect  his  standing. 

But  he  had  a  large  store  of  common  sense,  and  although 
the  wound  ached  cruelly  now,  he  felt  that  in  time  it  would 
heal — that  he  would  be  convinced,  as  he  tried  to  be  now, 
that  Hilda  was  not  "all  his  fancy  painted  her."  He  tried 
hard  to  look  at  the  matter  from  her  standpoint,  and  partially 
succeeded,  but  he  felt  thankful  for  the  distance  which  sepa 
rated  them ;  and  then  he  suddenly  remembered  that,  if  he 
obeyed  the  prompting  of  his  heart,  which  hourly  grew 
stronger,  and  went  to  his  uncle's  assistance,  he  would  be 
obliged  to  see  Hilda  frequently  and  to  have  the  certainty  of 
his  loss  constantly  thrust  upon  him.  For  a  little  while,  this 
almost  turned  the  scale ;  then  came  a  revulsion  of  feeling, 
and  he  condemned  himself  severely  for  selfishness  and  in 
gratitude,  for  want  of  strength  and  manliness,  and,  with 
this  mood  strong  upon  him,  he  hastened  to  make  his  arrange 
ments  for  withdrawing  from  college,  and  engaged  his  passage 
for  the  earliest  possible  opportunity  of  reaching  Santa  Cruz. 
This  would  not  occur  for  a  week,  so  he  would  have  ample 
time,  he  thought,  to  wind  up  his  affairs  in  the  United  States 
— not  finally,  for  he  fully  meant  to  follow  the  course  he  had 
marked  out  for  himself,  as  soon  as  the  necessity  which  he 
now  felt  pressing  upon  him  should  be  over.  He  could  not 
help  hoping  that  his  uncle  might  be  induced  to  sell  the  plan 
tation,  and,  with  the  money  so  acquired  safely  invested, 
come  to  a  small  but  comfortable  home  in  the  United  States, 
and  give  up  the  hopeless  attempt  to  retrieve  his  fallen  for- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  243 

tunes  in  Santa  Cruz.  It  would  be  hopeless,  of  course,  even 
were  his  uncle  well  and  capable  of  managing  his  affairs,  to 
attempt  to  carry  on  the  plantation  now  ;  it  might  have  been 
done,  had  the  income  from  the  investments  continued, 
though  even  then  it  would  probably  have  been  necessary  to 
withdraw  a  small  amount  of  capital  for  the  purpose.  Now, 
with  an  insufficient  and  uncertain  staff  of  servants,  with  no 
ready  money  to  continue  the  needed  repairs  and  improve 
ments,  or  even  to  live  upon,  in  the  interval  before  the  crops 
should  be  sold,  it  was  clearly  impossible;  but  Leonard's 
great  fear  was  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  convince  his 
uncle  of  this.  From  various  little  things  in  his  aunt's  and 
Doris's  letters,  he  inferred  his  uncle's  real  condition,  and  he 
knew  that  there  is  no  such  hopeless  obstinacy  as  that  which 
lacks  reason.  Still,  his  aunt's  influence  might  do  much, 
aided  by  the  failing  memory,  although  it  seemed  almost  like 
treason,  to  Leonard,  to  count  upon  the  latter  as  a  means  of 
managing  his  uncle's  affairs.  He  regretted  very  much  that 
it  was  impossible  to  announce  his  intended  coming,  but  he 
felt  unwilling  to  lose  the  two  weeks  which  must  be  lost 
should  he  wait  to  do  this,  and  he  knew  that,  after  the  first 
shock  of  surprise  to  his  aunt  and  cousin,  and  the  natural 
unwillingness  to  accept  the  sacrifice  he  was  making,  his 
presence  would  be  only  a  comfort  to  both  of  them,  whatever 
it  might  be  to  his  uncle. 

The  vessel  in  which  he  sailed  made  a  quick  and  pleasant 
voyage ;  twelve  days  from  that  on  which  he  had  embarked, 
the  high,  bluff  coast  of  the  "  north  side  "  became  visible  early 
in  the  morning,  and  by  afternoon  they  were  entering  the 
beautiful  harbor.  In  spite  of  all  the  depressing  influences 
connected  with  his  return,  his  heart  gave  a  glad  bound  as, 
rounding  the  Island,  they  came  in  view  of  the  west  side,  and 
he  saw  once  more  the  beautiful  estates  which,  lying  on  the 
more  level  land,  looked  like  huge  gardens  as  the  ship  passed 


244  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

them  in  rapid  succession  ;  then  the  wide  strip  of  sandy 
beach,  with  its  border  of  tall  cocoanut-palms,  separating  it 
from  Strand-street,  and  stretching  away  almost  to  the  south 
ern  point  of  land;  and  then  the  streets  and  houses  of  the 
little  town  of  Frederickstadt  became  distinctly  visible  ;  he 
could  even  see  the  palms  bordering  the  wide  avenue  which 
still  marked  the  spot  where  his  uncle's  house  had  stood. 
The  vessel  was  made  fast;  the  boats,  rowed  by  smiling  ne 
groes,  came  alongside,  and,  hardly  waiting  to  secure  the  land 
ing  of  his  luggage,  he  was  rowed  ashore,  and  walked  with 
eager  haste  towards  his  home. 

His  heart  throbbed  painfully  as  he  saw  upon  all  sides  the 
too  evident  marks  of  neglect  and  mismanagement,  and  a 
great  wave  of  pity  and  sympathy  went  over  it  as  he  stood  at 
the  door  of  the  bare,  comfortless-looking  house  which  had 
been  hastily  erected  as  a  temporary  shelter,  but  which  would 
now,  he  sadly  felt,  never  be  replaced  by  the  beautiful  and 
comfortable  home  which  his  uncle  had  so  sanguinely  planned. 
It  was  not  really  so  comfortless  as  it  looked.  Doris  had 
lavished  ingenuity  and  care  upon  the  interior,  in  her  en 
deavor  to  give  her  mother  a  home-feeling  and  divert  her 
father's  failing  mind,  making  the  rooms,  as  nearly  as  she 
could,  exactly  similar  to  the  corresponding  ones  in  the  lost 
home,  and  the  contrast  between  the  outside  and  inside  pro 
duced  a  fresh  feeling  of  surprise  whenever  any  one  entered 
the  house. 

He  knocked  softly,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  Parecn. 
Her  astonished  exclamation  of  "Laws!  Mars' Leonard !  is 
it  you  or  you'  ghos'  ?"  was  uttered  in  so  high  a  key  that 
every  one  in  the  house  heard  it,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all  the 
family,  save  Mr.  Campbell,  had  gathered  around  him,  full  of 
wondering  delight.  But  in  a  few  minutes,  when  they  had  a 
little  recovered  from  the  surprise  of  seeing  him,  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  asked  anxiously : 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  245 

"  What  has  happened,  dear  Leonard,  to  bring  you  home 
at  this  time,  and  so  unexpectedly  ?  Nothing  is  wrong,  I 
hope?" 

Leonard  took  his  aunt's  hand  caressingly,  saying  with  a 

smile : 

"  I  have  been  neither  suspended  nor  expelled,  dear  aunt ; 
I  have  only  given  myself  leave  of  absence,  to  look  after  my 
family  a  little.  I  could  not  stand  it  any  longer — it  was  bud 
enough  to  know  how  ill  and  suffering  both  you  and  my 
uncle  were,  but  when  I  heard  of  the  failure  of  those  compa 
nies,  and  the  terrible  loss  it  meant  for  you,  I  felt  that  I 
must  come  ;  but  my  Career,  as  Doris  and  I  used  to  call  it, 
is  not  abandoned,  it  is  only  postponed  for  a  little  while — so 
you  must  not  be  troubled  about  that,  or  anything  else  from 
which  I  can  save  you." 

Mrs.  Campbell  and  Doris  looked  first  at  Leonard  and  then 
at  each  other,  bewildered. 

"Loss?"  said  the  former,  inquiringly;  "do  you  mean 
the  loss  of  that  offer  for  the  crop,  my  dear?  That  was  a 
pity,  but  it  will  only  make  a  difference  for  this  one  year  ;  by 
next  year,  I  hope,  Doris  and  I  will  have  learned  how  to 
manage,  and  the  plantation  will  bring  in  the  usual  returns 
again." 

But  Doris  sprang  up,  with  a  sudden  exclamation  of 
dismay. 

"  Oh,  mamma!  I  understand  it  all  now.  Do  you  remem 
ber  that  business-looking  letter,  which  you  so  wished  papa 
to  open,  and  how  he  would  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  start  on 
his  morning  round,  because  he  was  afraid  of  being  overtaken 
by  the  heat  ?  I  am  afraid  we  all  forgot  it  afterward — I  know 
I  did,  for  one — I  have  never  thought  of  it  from  that  moment 
to  this,  and  I  suppose  it  tells  of  what  Leonard  is  talking 
about.  Do  you  know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  sadly,  « I  do  not,  and  neither 


246  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

does  your  father.  I  did  not  forget  it — I  have  asked  him  for 
it  many  times  since,  but  he  has  never  been  able  to  recall 
what  he  did  with  it.  We  must  make  a  careful  search  now. 
Do  you  suppose  any  harm  has  been  done,  Leonard,  by  the 
delay  ?  " 

"Dear  Aunt  Agnes,"  said  Leonard,  hesitatingly,  "the 
harm  was  all  done  long  before  the  letter  reached  you — you 
have  only  been  spared  two  more  weeks  of  anxiety  by  the  de 
lay.  I  think  you  know  that  my  uncle,  some  time  ago,  in 
company  with  Mr.  Barrett  and  several  more  of  the  planters, 
invested  all  his  money,  excepting  what  he  had  in  immediate 
use,  in  American  stocks.  There  have  been  a  great  many 
failures  in  America  lately — there  is  a  sort  of  business  panic, 
I  am  told,  all  over  the  country— and  the  concern  to  which 
this  money  was  intrusted  has  failed  most  completely  and 
disastrously;  they  are  paying  nothing  whatever  to  any  of 
the  stockholders,  and  I  fear  they  are  thoroughly  dishonest. 
I  am  glad  my  uncle  did  not  read  the  letter.  If  we  can  only 
find  it  now,  and  either  destroy  or  put  it  where  he  will  never 
see  it  again,  perhaps  we  can  keep  him  from  knowing  any 
thing  at  all  about  it." 

"  We  must — we  will!"  said  Doris,  with  sudden  energy; 
"I  see  now,"  she  added,  "why  Jeanie  has  not  been  here  for 
nearly  two  weeks.  She  has  been  waiting  until  she  could  be 
certain  we  had  heard  of  this.  I  will  write  to  her  this  even 
ing.  Dear  Leonard,  it  was  very  good  of  you  to  come.  I 
don't  know  what  mamma  and  I  should  have  done,  if  we  had 
been  all  alone  with  dear  papa,  and  had  heard  about  it.  There 
is  much  that  we  can  do,  if  we  can  only  manage  so  as  to  sat 
isfy  papa  about  it." 

"We  can  do  that,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  sadly; 
"he  so  soon  forgets  now  anything  that  is  told  him.  Dear 
Leonard,  you  will  see  a  very  great  change  in  your  uncle. 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  247 

Ho  seems  like  an  old  man  now ;  mind  and  body  are  both 
failing  fast." 

"But  perhaps/'  said  Leonard,  hopefully,  "if  he  can  be 
induced  to  leave  this  place  and  come  to  America,  the  sea 
voyage  and  the  new  climate  and  surroundings  may  restore 
him  at  least  to  comfort  and  usefulness,  even  if  he  should 
never  be  very  strong  and  vigorous  again." 

"I  should  like  to  think  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Campbell,  "but 
I  am  afraid  not.  The  utmost  that  Dr.  Svensen  leads  us  to 
hope  for  is  that  he  may  be  kept  tolerably  comfortable,  and 
spared  another  shock  of  paralysis.  I  can  see  that  his  strength 
is  gradually  failing ;  but  so  long  as  he  does  not  seem  to 
suffer  actual  pain,  we  must  be  thankful  for  that." 

"But  how  wonderfully  better  you  yourself  are  looking, 
Aunt  Agnes,"  said  Leonard ;  "  Doris  told  me  of  the  great 
improvement  in  your  health,  but  I  scarcely  hoped  to  find  you 
so  Avell  as  you  seem  to  be— you  look  exactly  as  you  did  when 
I  first  came  to  you,  before  you  were  ill  at  all." 

"  We  are  very  proud  of  her,  Dr.  Svensen  and  I,"  said  Do 
ris,  nestling  close  to  her  mother's  side;  "  we  pay  each  other 
compliments  upon  our  skill  as  doctor  and  nurse,  every  time 
we  meet." 

"  They  are  very  well-deserved  compliments,"  said  Mrs. 
Campbell,  fondly;  "  nobody  was  ever  taken  quite  such  good 
care  of,  I  think,  as  I  have  been." 

'•  That  is  because  nobody  ever  deserved  it  so  well,"  replied 
Doris.  "Was  that  papa  stirring,  mamma?"  she  added, 
anxiously;  "I  think  I  had  better  go  and  see— he  has  slept 
longer  than  usual  to-day." 

She  stepped  lightly  from  the  room,  and  they  heard  her 
presently  talking  merrily  to  her  father,  as  she  helped  him  to 
arrange  his  dress  and  hair,  before  bringing  him  into  the 
parlor.  Leonard  was  shocked,  notwithstanding  all  that  had 
been  said,  when  he  first  saw  his  uncle.  The  change  was, 


248  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

indeed,  great.  But  Mr.  Campbell's  pale,  drawn  face  bright 
ened  wonderfully  when  he  saw  his  nephew,  and  he  greeted 
him  with  warm  affection,  asking  rapid  questions  about  the 
voyage  without  pausing  to  have  them  answered,  and,  to  the 
great  relief  of  all  the  family,  seeming  to  see  nothing  extraor 
dinary  in  his  nephew's  arrival  at  that  time.  All  allusion  to 
his  affairs  was  carefully  avoided,  and  the  evening  passed 
quietly  away,  leaving  him  looking  brighter  and  better  than 
he  had  looked  for  many  days.  He  went  to  bed  early,  and, 
after  Doris  had  helped  her  mother  to  attend  him,  she 
returned  to  say  good-night  to  Leonard,  who  was  pacing 
slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  house  in  the  still,  cloud 
less  moonlight. 

The  charred  ruins  of  the  old  house  had  been  carefully 
cleared  away,  and  the  stone  piazza  was  found  almost  unin 
jured  under  a  mass  of  ashes  and  blackened  timbers.  The 
temporary  house  had  been  erected  about  a  hundred  yards 
farther  back  from  the  road,  for  Mr.  Campbell's  intention  had 
been  to  build  the  new  house  exactly  upon  the  old  site,  and 
as  nearly  like  the  old  one  as  possible,  and  a  small  beginning 
had  already  been  made.  Leonard  tucked  Doris's  arm  be 
neath  his,  saying  coaxingly : 

"  Sec,  dear,  how  a  flood  of  moonlight  seems  to  be  specially 
poured  on  the  poor  oW.  deserted  stone  piazza.  It  is  only  a 
little  after  nine ;  come  over  there  with  me,  and  we  will  walk 
up  and  down,  and  'make  believe'  that  the  house  is  still 
there,  and  everything  as  it  used  to  be.  Come ! " 

"I  can't  'make  believe'  any  more;  I  am  afraid  I  am 
growing  too  old,"  said  Doris,  yielding  to  the  impulse  given 
by  his  words  and  the  motion  of  his  arm.  "  But  we  will  go 
for  a  little  while — the  moonlight  is  so  lovely,  and  I  have 
nothing  more  to  do  now  until  to-morrow  morning." 

lie  helped  her  up  the  leaning  steps,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
they  paced  back  and  forth  in  perfect  silence,  each  oppressed 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  249 

with  the  weight  of  sad  and  painful  thoughts  and  thronging 
memories.     It  was  Leonard  who  at  last  broke  the  silence. 

"Do  you  wonder  how  I  could  come  back,  Doris,  after 
hearing  of  Hilda's  engagement  ?  "  he  asked,  and  then,  with 
out  waiting  for  her  to  answer,  he  continued: 

"  It  was  hard  work,  so  far  as  that  was  concerned  ;  but  I 
thought  I  could  stand  it  better  than  I  could  to  feel  that  I 
was  a  coward,  and  was  leaving  the  people  I  loved  best  to 
suffer  alone.  I  suppose  I  must  meet  Hilda  and  that  man 
sooner  or  later,  and  I  feel  a  sort  of  impatience  now  to  have 
it  over  and  done  with  without  farther  delay.  Do  you  really 
think,  Doris,  that  she  loves  him,  and  that  he  will  make  her 
happy  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Doris,  thoughtfully,  "I  do.  I  am  pretty  sure 
Hilda  would  not  marry  any  man  without  at  least  thinking 
that  she  loved  him,  and  she  will  probably  be  happy  enough, 
after  a  fashion,  but  I  do  not  covet  her  happiness." 

"I  don't  think  I  quite  understand  you,  dear;  what  sort  of 
a  'fashion'  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,"  said  Doris,  speaking  slowly,  as  she  tried  to 
arrange  her  thoughts,  "  that  it  will  be  a  happiness  of  the 
head  rather  than  the  heart.  They  are  to  spend  their  winters 
in  Copenhagen,  and  I  have  no  doubt  she  counts  upon 
meeting  a  great  many  brilliant  people  and  shining  in 
society,  and  of  course  she  will ;  but  she  does  not  seem  to  be 
counting  at  all  upon  her  home-life,  or  what  they  will  do 
when  they  are  by  themselves,  and  she  can't  be  shining  in 
society  all  the  time,  you  know." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  to  think,"  said  Leonard,  and  Doris 
saw,  in  the  clear,  white  light,  how  sad  and  puzzled  his  face 
looked.  "I  have  never  been  certain  that  I  really  understood 
Hilda.  She  is  either  the  most  reserved  or  the  most  heart 
less  woman  I  ever  met,  and  I  cannot  decide  which — not  that 
it  is  incumbent  upon  me  to  do  so,"  he  added,  with  a  rather 


250  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

forlorn  smile,  "under  existing  circumstances,  and  indeed  I 
didn't  mean  to  be  so  foolish  and  selfish,  dear,  when  there  are 
things  to  be  thought  of  so  much  more  important  than  my 
trouble.  That  was  not  what  I  meant  to  talk  of,  at  all,  when 
I  coaxed  you  over  here,  but,  somehow,  moonlight  always 
makes  me  think  of  Hilda.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you  think 
Aunt  Agnes  is  well  enough  for  me  to  have  a  business  talk 
with  her  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  is,"  replied  Doris,  a  little  doubtfully, 
"and  it  must  be  done,  I  can  see  that  plainly.  The  best 
thing  we  could  possibly  do,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  would  be  to 
sell  this  place  and  go  to  the  States.  I  am  pretty  sure  that 
Mr.  Santon  would  help  me  to  find  music  scholars — you 
know  he  has  been  writing  me  such  kind,  helpful  letters  two 
or  three  times  a  year,  ever  since  wre  had  that  talk  about 
music.  I  am  out  of  practice  now,  of  course,  but  I  could 
soon  bring  myself  up  again  if  I  had  a  piano,  and  I  have 
always  thought  that  I  should  like  teaching  of  any  kind,  I 
enjoyed  my  turns  in  our  school  so  much.  With  what  we  get 
for  the  place  safely  invested,  and  what  I  could  make  teach 
ing,  I  should  think  we  might  be  very  comfortable,  and  Dr. 
Svensen  has  said  for  some  time  that  mamma  would  be  much 
better  in  a  more  bracing  climate  than  this.  But  the  great 
trouble  is,  I  don't  see  any  prospect  of  selling  the  estate ;  and 
unless  we  could  do  that,  all  the  rest  would  be  quite  out 
of  the  question.  I  do  wonder  how  those  people  manage, 
Leonard,  who  begin  with  nothing  at  all,  and  make  colossal 
fortunes!  One  reads  of  them,  but  I  have  never  yet  met 
any  of  them.  Have  you  ?  " 

"  I  met  the  son  of  one  of  them  at  college,"  replied  Leon 
ard,  smiling  at  her  earnest  face,  "  a  good,  honest,  unpreten 
tious  fellow,  with  no  nonsense  about  him  ;  and  after  I  grew 
to  know  him  quite  well,  he  mentioned  incidentally  one  day 
what  was  the  foundation  of  his  father's  fortune." 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  251 

"And  what  was  it?  "  asked  Doris,  eagerly. 

"A  wheelbarrow-load  of  potatoes,  which  he  sold  upon 
shares,"  said  Leonard,  gravely,  but  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Leonard  !  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  How  could  it  be  ?" 
And  Doris  looked  incredulous. 

"  1  am  quite  in  earnest,  and  so  was  old  Mr.  Hanson,  and 
that  was  how  he  came  to  make  the  fortune.  He  came  to 
New  York  from  the  country,  with  an  outfit  of  good,  plain 
clothes,  and  a  little  money  to  keep  him  going  till  he  found 
a  place,  which  he  supposed  would  be  in  a  week,  at  the  very 
farthest;  but  he  found  that  he  had  been  basely  deceived  as 
to  the  demand  for  boys  in  New  York.  He  was  too  proud  to 
go  back  to  the  farm  and  say  so,  or  even  to  write  to  his 
mother  for  more  money;  so  he  stood  it  till  his  money  was 
gone,  and  all  his  clothes  but  those  he  had  on,  still  asking 
for  a  place  as  clerk  or  bookkeeper.  When  he  got  pretty 
hungry,  he  concluded  that  he  would  like  to  be  a  porter,  but 
nobody  seemed  to  want  a  porter  just  then,  so  at  last  he  went 
to  one  of  the  big  markets,  where  he  knew  a  man  from  his 
own  part  of  the  country,  and  this  man,  perhaps  to  see  of 
what  texture  the  youth's  character  was,  filled  a  wheelbarrow 
with  fine  potatoes,  put  a  measure  on  the  top,  and  told  young 
Hanson  that  if  he  could  manage  to  sell  them  at  the  doors, 
he  should  have  half  what  they  brought.  He  went  off,  de 
lighted  with  the  chance,  as  he  would  have  been,  by  this  time, 
with  any  sort  of  an  honest  chance,  and  he  didn't  just  wheel 
them  through  the  principal  streets  and  wait  for  the  citizens 
to  stop  him,  he  shouted  their  virtues,  and  chose  the  small 
streets  where  people  would  buy  them  at  their  front  doors,  and 
in  an  hour  or  two  he  went  back  to  the  market  with  his  bar 
row  empty,  and  asked  to  have  it  filled  again !  His  friend 
kept  him  at  this  for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  took  him  to  help 
in  the  market,  and  by-and-by  the  farmer  rented  a  little 
corner-store,  and  put  Hanson  in  it;  and  so  it  went  on  from 


252  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

one  thing  to  another,  till  now  he  is  at  the  head  of  one  of  the 
largest  produce  commission  houses  in  New  York,  and  has  a 
fortune  to  leave  his  son,  as  well  as  an  interest  in  the  busi 
ness.  And  what  I  specially  like  about  young  Hanson  is  that, 
in  a  quiet  way,  he's  immensely  proud  of  his  father  and  the 
way  in  which  he  started  in  life,  instead  of  trying  to  keep 
it  still,  and  calling  him  a  'merchant,'  as  a  good  many 
fellows  I  know  would  do." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  come  to  remember  all  that, 
Leonard  ? "  asked  Doris,  amused,  but  much  interested  as 
well. 

"  I  put  it  away  for  reference,"  said  Leonard ;  "and  I  mean 
to  remember  it.  There's  no  telling  but  what  I  may  be  in  a 
similar  <  fix/  as  Hanson  would  say,  one  of  these  days,  and  I 
don't  mean,  if  I  know  anything  about  it,  to  wait  till  I  have 
sold  all  my  clothes,  and  am  torn  by  the  pangs  of  hunger, 
before  coming  to  my  kingdom  of  common  sense.  I  have 
thought  about  it  a  great  deal  since  he  told  me  this  story, 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  a  good  many  of  the  failures  to  hit 
the  mark  come  from  shooting  too  high." 

"But  it  always  seemed  to  me,"  said  Doris,  "that  one 
couldn't  aim  too  high.  One  should  surely  try  for  the  sort 
of  work  which  most  fully  develops  one's  mind  and  character, 
and  sometimes  I  think  it  would  almost  be  nobler  to  starve 
than  to  sacrifice  one's  ideals  and  aspirations." 

"Now  Doris!"  said  Leonard,  with  a  little  impatience  in 
his  voice,  "  that  is  not  like  you.  Who  is  talking  of  sacrificing 
ideals  and  aspirations  ?  They  can  be  boxed  up  and  safely 
put  away  until  one  can  afford  to  take  them  out  and  air 
them!  The  question  is,  as  a  general  thing,  not  whether 
one  will  do  distasteful  work  or  starve,  but  whether  one  will 
do  it  or  be  dependent;  and  you  wouldn't  hesitate  then, 
surely — I  mean,  of  course,  if  you  were  a  man." 

"No,    of    course  I  shouldn't,"  said    Doris,   no    longer 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  253 

speaking  doubtfully;   "and  Leonard,  I   don't  see  why  I 
should,  being  a  woman,  any  more  than  if  I  were  a  man ! " 

"You  must  excuse  me  for  saying,  my  dear,  that,  sensible 
as  you  usually  are,  you  are  now  talking  utter  nonsense  ! 
What  are  the  men  of  a  family  good  for,  I  should  like  to 
know,  if  they  cannot  take  care  of  the  women  ?  So  long  as 
I,  your  brother  and  lawful  protector,  am  living,  and  in  pos 
session  of  bodily  and  mental  health,  you  will  please  not 
make  any  such  treasonable  proposition  as  that  in  my 
hearing." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  feel  that  way,  dear  Leonard," 
said  Doris,  gratefully,  "and  I  am  glad,  in  one  sense,  that 
you  do  ;  but  if  things  turn  out  as  I  now  fear  that  they  will, 
I  cannot  be  satisfied  to  sit  idle  while  you  give  up  everything 
to  work  for  us.  But  come,  we  must  go  back,  or  I  shall  not 
wake  in  time  to-morrow  morning.  This  is  a  most  unwonted 
dissipation  for  me  ! " 

Doris  hastened  to  bed,  but  it  was  more  than  an  hour  later 
before  she  fell  asleep.  The  excitement  of  Leonard's  coming 
was  partly  responsible  for  her  wakefulness,  but  not  alto 
gether;  she  was  thinking  earnestly  of  what  they  had  said 
about  work.  In  all  her  visions  of  working  for  her  family, 
although  it  had  occurred  to  her  that  her  hands,  rather  than 
her  head,  might  be  the  means  employed,  she  still  had  hoped 
that  a  chance  would  present  itself  for  the  latter.  Now,  how 
ever,  when  she  was  confronted  by  the  thought  that  she 
might  be  obliged  to  look  for  something  to  do  in  Santa  Cruz, 
instead  of  the  wider  field  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
knowledge  that  she  would  be  unable  to  find  enough  music 
scholars  to  make  looking  for  them  worth  while,  she  began 
to  think  that  her  views  had  been  too  exalted,  and  to  wonder  if 
some  humbler  way  of  helping  her  beloved  ones  might  not  be 
lying  unnoticed  at  the  very  door.  She  could  think  of  nothing, 
however,  and  then,  remembering  that  Jane  would  have  cause 


254  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

to  study  the  same  problem,  if  her  father's  loss  were  as  heavy 
as  their  own— of  which  she  had  little  doubt — she  resolved  to 
send  a  note  in  the  morning,  asking  Jane  to  come  for  a  con 
sultation,  and,  satisfied  with  having  arrived  at  this  conclusion, 
at  last  fell  asleep. 

Leonard  very  soon  found  that  he  had  formed  no  correct 
idea,  beforehand,  of  the  magnitude  of  his  undertaking.  His 
uncle  was  a  hindrance,  rather  than  a  help,  in  every  attempt 
which  he  made  to  rectify  mistakes  and  abuses  on  the  planta 
tion,  and  very  soon  manifested  a  suspicion  of  Leonard's 
motives  and  actions,  which  rendered  every  undertaking 
doubly  difficult.  The  sugar-mill  was  badly  in  need  of  repairs, 
having  been  roughly  handled  on  the  night  when  the  house 
was  burnt ;  tools  had  been  stolen  and  mislaid  until  the  sup 
ply  was  very  inadequate  to  the  demand ;  the  crop  was  so 
poor  and  scant  that  Leonard  began  to  think  it  would  be 
cause  for  thankfulness  if  it  paid  for  the  expense  of  securing 
it,  and  altogether  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  but  an  immediate 
and  liberal  supply  of  ready  money  could  save  the  plantation 
from  total  destruction.  Leonard's  resolution  was  soon 
taken  ;  he  wrote  for  half  of  the  sum  which  was  to  have 
carried  him  through  college  and  his  medical  studies,  and 
when  it  arrived,  tried  to  disburse  it  quietly,  as  it  was  needed, 
without  attracting  his  aunt's  and  Doris's  attention.  With 
the  former  he  succeeded  in  this,  for  she  seldom  went  about 
the  plantation  enough  to  notice  the  gradual  changes  for  the 
better  which  were  taking  place  ;  but  Doris  very  soon  sus 
pected  the  real  state  of  the  case,  and  it  made  her  exceedingly 
unhappy.  She  was  so  nearly  sure,  that  she  was  several  times 
upon  the  point  of  speaking  to  Leonard  about  it,  but  was 
still  prevented  by  the  thought  that,  in  the  remote  possibility 
of  her  being  mistaken,  she  might  be  suggesting  a  new  idea 
to  him,  and  one  which  he  would  be  apt  to  follow. 

In  this  uncertain  condition  of  mind  she  waited  for  several 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  255 

days,  until  something  inadvertently  told  her  by  Cudjoe 
made  her  sure  that  her  surmise  had  been  correct.  Then  she 
took  the  first  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him  about  it,  and 
he  was  unable  to  deny  that  she  had  guessed  rightly.  She 
was  much  distressed,  and  begged  him  fervently  not  to  con 
tinue  his  generous  attempt  to  restore  prosperity  to  them, 
when  success  was  at  best  so  doubtful,  and  the  loss  would  be 
so  serious  to  him  if  the  almost  inevitable  failure  came.  He 
tried  in  vain  to  convince  her  that  it  was  merely  a  loan,  and 
that,  in  his  temporary  absence  from  college,  the  temporary 
use  of  part  of  his  money  could  cause  him  neither  loss  nor 
inconvenience. 

"You  know,  dear  sister,"  he  said,  "that  you  promised 
long  ago  to  let  me  be  your  'real  brother,' and  you  must 
remember  that  promise  now.  There  is  no  ( mine  and  thine ' 
between  a  real  brother  and  sister,  dear." 

"But  Leonard,"  answered  Doris,  earnestly,  "even  if  you 
were,  as  you  truly  seem  to  me  to  be,  my  'real  brother,'  I 
should  feel  exactly  the  same  about  this.  The  more  I  think 
of  it — and  Jeanie  and  I  have  had  a  great  many  talks  about 
it— the  less  I  see  why  a  healthy  woman,  with  an  ordinary 
amount  of  intellect,  should  sit  down  and  vegetate,  even  if 
every  circumstance  of  her  life  is  in  favor  of  her  doing  so. 
And  when,  on  the  other  hand,  a  necessity  like  that  which 
has  come  to  us,  arises,  it  seems  to  me  simply  absurd,  and  I 
don't  mean  to  do  it.  I  am  so  very  glad  you  told  me  that 
little  story  about  Mr.  Hanson.  It  has  sent  my  thoughts  on  a 
new  tack,  to  use  a  beautiful  nautical  simile,  and  when  Jeanie 
comes,  I  am  confident  that  we  can  evolve  something  out  of 
our  combined  inner  consciousnesses,  which  will  be  worth 
while.  So  far,  there  has  been  a  weak  spot  in  all  my  projects, 
but  I  somehow  feel  now  as  if  I  were  going  to  solve  my 
problem." 

"Now,  Doris!"    said   Leonard,   coaxingly,  "just  wait  a 


256  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

little,  until  we  see  whether  I  can't  pick  up  the  plantation, 
and  set  it  on  its  feet  again  !  If  we  could  only  get  rid  of  that 
half-dozen  of  outside  darkies,  I  do  believe  that  by  another 
year  Cudjoe  could  manage  the  whole  concern  admirably, 
especially  if  Mr.  Barrett  would  let  the  boy  come  to  him  in 
any  doubt  or  difficulty.  Our  own  people  are  nearly  all  quite 
willing  to  work  under  Cudjoe,  partly  because  they  like  him, 
but  more,  I  think,  because  of  that  curious  scene  at  Glasgow's 
bedside ;  but  of  course  the  outsiders  have  no  such  regard  for 
him,  and  among  people  so  volatile  and  easily  diverted  as 
even  the  best  of  the  negroes  are,  their  influence  is  always 
making  trouble." 

"  Then  why  can't  they  be  sent  away,  and  others  hired  in 
their  place  ?"  inquired  Doris. 

"  Because,  so  far  as  I  can  yet  see,  nothing  would  be  gained 
by  doing  so,"  replied  Leonard.  "  I  am  on  the  watch,  how 
ever,  and  whenever  I  see  a  chance  to  replace  them  by  better 
men,  it  shall  be  done ;  but  the  great  misfortune  is,  that  after 
the  rebellion  some  of  the  very  best  and  steadiest  of  the 
negroes  left  the  Island,  for  they  were  the  ones  who  had  saved 
money,  and  were  able  to  go,  and  then  a  gang  of  idle,  roving 
fellows  came  from  the  other  islands,  with  the  idea,  appar 
ently,  of  living  as  nearly  without  work  as  possible.  I  am 
thinking  very  seriously  whether  it  would  not  be  worth  while 
to  import  a  dozen  steady,  industrious  white  laborers  from 
the  States,  and  offer  them  small  farms  in  payment  for  their 
work.  The  plantation  could  be  made  to  pay  much  better, 
now,  it  seems  to  me,  if  it  were  a  good  many  acres  smaller; 
and  some  white  laborers,  of  the  right  sort,  might  have  a  very 
beneficial  influence  over  the  blacks.  I  know  a  fellow  in 
New  York — a  sort  of  a  self-appointed  city  missionary,  who 
could  find  me  the  men  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan  ;  but  I 
don't  quite  like  to  do  it  solely  on  my  own  responsibility — I 
mean  to  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Barrett  about  it,  and  be  guided 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  257 

by  what  he  says.  He's  a  very  bright,  wide-awake  man,  but 
he  has  an  immense  amount  of  hard  sense.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Doris ;  you  want  to  see  Jeanie ;  let's  drive  over  there  thb 
evening,  after  dinner.  You  don't  look  to  me  as  if  you  got 
enough  fresh  air." 

"  If  mamma  and  papa  are  as  well  as  usual,  I  shall  be  de 
lighted  to  do  it,"  replied  Doris,  her  face  brightening  with 
the  prospect.  So  it  was  arranged,  and  as  she  went  about  the 
house  that  day,  she  found  herself  once  more  singing  because 
she  felt  like  it. 


OHAPTEE    XYI. 

IT  was  characteristic  of  Leonard,  that  when  once  his  fate, 
as  regarded  Hilda,  was  finally  settled,  he  turned  his 
face  firmly  the  other  way  ;  and  while  he  did  not  at  all  for 
get,  allowed  his  memories  to  make  no  difference  in  his  daily 
life,  or  his  behavior  to  those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded. 
It  would  have  been  easier  for  him,  perhaps,  if  scorn  for 
Hilda  had  been  mixed  with  his  regret ;  but  his  sense  of 
justice,  which  was  keen,  obliged  him  to  admit  that  there  was 
no  ground  for  this.  If  he  had  ever  received  the  letter  which 
Doris  destroyed,  his  feeling  would  necessarily  have  been 
different ;  as  it  was,  he  accepted  the  conclusion  that  Hilda 
must  have  been  unconscious  of  his  love  for  her,  that  she  had 
never  cared  for  him,  excepting  as  a  friend,  and  that  Lieuten 
ant  Jansen's  devotion  had  awakened  as  much  affection  as 
her  calm  and  well-regulated  heart  was  capable  of  feeling. 
He  was  totally  free  from  the  petty  spirit  and  wounded  vanity 
which  so  often  cause,  if  not  the  heart,  at  least  the  fancy,  to 
be  "  caught  in  the  rebound." 

He  was  wounded,  but  the  wound  was  a  healthy  one,  which 
would  heal,  as  he  felt  sure,  in  time;  but  he  meant  to  give 
himself  time.  Meanwhile,  he  saw  no  reason  for  inflicting 
his  trouble  upon  the  people  he  loved  best,  and  who  had  been 
in  no  way  responsible  for  it,  and  his  earnest  effort  to  lighten 
the  heavy  load  under  which  his  aunt  and  Doris  were  bearing 
up  so  bravely,  was  the  best  possible  medicine  for  his  own 
hurt,  so  that  the  cheerfulness  which  was  at  first  assumed 
with  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  became  more  easy  and  natural 
every  day,  to  the  intense  relief  of  Doris,  who  had  dreaded 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  259 

yery  much  the  effect  of  Leonard's  disappointment  upon  his 
spirits,  and  even  upon  his  health. 

When  Leonard  had  suggested  the  drive  to  Mr.  Barrett's 
plantation,  he  had  forgotten,  for  the  moment,  that  there 
might  be  some  difficulty  in  carrying  out  the  suggestion.  On 
the  night  of  the  rebellion,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Campbell,  it  may 
be  remembered,  had  gone  for  a  drive  ;  when  they  went 
alone,  they  preferred  the  chaise  with  one  horse,  and  without 
a  driver,  but  that  evening  they  had  taken  little  Theo  and 
her  "  Nana  "  with  them,  and  so  had  gone  in  the  coach — a 
double  carriage,  built  in  England,  and  hung  so  high  that  a 
small  flight  of  steps,  which  the  black  drivers  delighted  to  let 
down  suddenly  and  noisily,  was  necessary  in  getting  in  and  out. 
The  body  of  the  coach  was  painted  yellow,  and  although  two 
horses  could  draw  it  quite  easily,  it  was  customary,  upon 
state  occasions,  to  use  four ;  for  all  the  wealthier  planters 
possessed  similar  vehicles,  while  those  who  could  not  afford 
to  keep  many  horses  used  chaises. 

The  two  horses  which  were  attached  to  the  carriage  that 
evening  had  been  turned  loose  by  one  of  the  men  who  was 
secretly  faithful  to  his  master,  and  recovered  and  restored 
the  next  day;  but  the  others,  which  were  in  the  stable,  had 
been  either  stolen  or  driven  away,  and  only  one  had  ever 
been  found  and  restored,  although  Cudjoe  had  made  faithful 
and  diligent  search.  The  work  had  of  course  come  heavily 
upon  the  reduced  number,  and  even  the  horse  which  Mr. 
Campbell  rode  in  his  daily  round  was  beginning  to  look 
jaded  and  worn,  and  Cudjoe,  with  unruffled  patience,  re 
peated  to  his  master  the  explanation  of  his  being  called  upon 
to  ride  such  a  sorry-looking  animal. 

There  had  been  one  new  and  very  pretty  chaise,  one  older, 
but  still  in  good  order,  and  quite  decent-looking,  and  an  old 
one,  which  was  frequently  lent  to  the  negroes  for  their  visit 
ing  and  shopping  excursions,  and  this  last  was  the  sole  sur- 


260  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

vivor  of  the  fire.  Leonard,  with  many  misgivings  as  to  the 
result,  told  Cudjoe  to  clean  this  ancient  vehicle,  and  make  it 
look  as  well  as  possible,  and  he  was  agreeably  surprised  when 
Cudjoe,  with  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  black  eyes,  called 
him  out  to  see  what  had  been  effected.  The  chaise 
had  been  carefully  washed,  the  curtains  neatly  mended, 
and  the  cushions,  of  dark  blue  cloth,  appeared  to  be  per 
fectly  new. 

"  Why,  Cudjoe,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  this  is  the  old 
rattle-trap  ?  "  inquired  Leonard,  doubtfully.  "Those  cushions 
look  quite  new,  and  the  rest  is  ancient,  but  respectable.  It 
must  have  been  the  worst  one  which  was  burnt." 

Cudjoe  showed  all  his  numerous  front  teeth  in  a  gratified 
grin,  as  he  replied: 

"No,  Mas'  Leonard,  this  is  the  old  chaise;  but  perhaps 
Master  remembers  Mr.  Campbell's  old  blue  cloth  coat  and 
trousers  ?  I  asked  Miss  Agnes  for  them  this  morning, 
and " 

Cudjoe  waved  his  hand  dramatically  toward  the  cushions, 
by  way  of  conclusion  to  his  sentence,  in  a  manner  which 
would  have  made  Leonard  laugh  heartily  if  he  had  not  been 
afraid  of  hurting  the  good  fellow's  feelings. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  those  stylish-looking 
cushions  are  covered  with  an  old  coat  and  trousers?"  said 
Leonard.  "  You'll  have  to  be  a  coach-maker,  Cudjoe ;  you've 
real  genius  for  it !  How  pleased  Miss  Doris  will  be!" 

Again  the  white  teeth  flashed  into  sight,  as  Cudjoe  said, 
proudly  : 

"  That  was  what  I  was  thinking  'bout,  all  the  time,  as  I 
made  them,  Mas'  Leonard." 

Doris  bestowed  a  full  measure  of  praise  on  the  delighted 
artist  in  chaise-cushions,  and  enjoyed,  afterwards,  Leonard's 
mirth  over  the  humble  origin  of  their  state. 

"I  have  not  felt  so  young  as  I  do  to-night  since  the  be- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  261 

ginning  of  papa's  illness,"  she  said,  as  they  drove  through 
the  lovely  moonlit  landscape.  Their  horse,  inspired  by  a 
day's  rest  and  an  extra  feeding,  was  getting  over  the  ground 
almost  too  rapidly,  Doris  thought,  considering  the  beauty 
through  which  they  were  passing;  her  father  had  seemed 
brighter  and  more  like  himself  that  evening  than  he  had 
done  for  many  days,  and  her  mother,  delighted  that  the  lit 
tle  expedition  had  been  proposed,  was  more  animated  and 
cheerful  even  than  usual.  The  affectionate  care  and  observ 
ance  with  which  Leonard  surrounded  her  was  all  the  more 
grateful  from  the  fact  that,  for  so  many  weeks  now,  she  had 
been  the  care-taker,  and  had  insisted,  when  her  mother 
grew  anxious  about  her,  that  a  young,  strong,  healthy  per 
son,  such  as  she  was,  was  all  the  better  for  having  plenty 
to  do.  She  had  begun  to  feel  the  strain  of  responsibility, 
and  the  manner  in  which  Leonard  shared  and  lightened  it 
made  her  wonder  how  she  had  so  long  managed  without  him. 
She  often  wondered  to  herself  at  the  manliness  and  strength 
of  character  which  had  so  rapidly  developed  in  him  during 
the  past  year,  and  thought  with  a  sort  of  disdain  that  Hilda 
might  gladly  have  waited  five  years,  or  even  ten,  for  the 
love  of  such  a  man  as  Leonard  was  growing  to  be.  Doris 
was  a  little  unjust  to  Hilda;  she  could  not  at  all  realize  how 
her  friend's  pride  had  been  stung,  nor  how  soothing  to  this 
wounded  pride  had  been  Lieutenant  Jansen's  persistent  and 
uucalculating  devotion,  after  what  she  considered  such  cold 
and  unflattering  regard  as  Leonard  had  manifested. 

The  Barretts  welcomed  their  young  visitors  very  warmly, 
but  Jane  was  especially  glad  to  see  Doris. 

"I  have  just  been  answering  your  note,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  "and  explaining  my  apparent  neglect,  and  why  it 
must  last  for  a  few  days  longer.  Mamma  has  not  been  at 
all  well,  and  the  servants  have  been  behaving  abominably, 
so  that  Clara  and  I  have  had  our  hands  full ;  and  I  have 


262  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

lamented  most  of  all  that  our  plans  for  seeing  you  and  trying 
to  help  you  a  little,  have  been  defeated  as  fast  as  they  were 
formed. " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  feel  neglected  at  all,"  said  Doris,  cheer 
fully;  "I  knew  there  must  be  some  very  good  reason,  and 
I  was  delighted  when  Leonard  arranged  our  expedition  for 
to-night.  You  see,  I  had  somehow  fallen  into  the  belief 
that  I  might  as  well  cry  for  the  moon  as  for  a  decent  horse 
and  vehicle,  and  behold,  here  we  are  in  an  establishment 
which,  whatever  it  may  prove  to  be  in  the  way  of  rats  and 
pumpkins  by  garish  daylight,  is  highly  respectable  by  moon 
light.  But  I  am  ever  so  sorry,  Jeanie,  that  it  is  tribulation 
which  has  kept  you  at  home.  Is  your  mother  getting 
better?" 

"Oh,  yes — she  will  be  down  presently,  if  Eunice  has  con 
descended  to  go  and  tell  her  you  are  here.  I  never  feel  cer 
tain  now  that  the  servants  will  do  anything,  until  I  have 
seen  it  done.  I  don't  see  how  you  manage  at  all — you  must 
be  a  born  general,  for  all  your  menials  seem  to  tremble  and 
obey  you." 

"They  don't  tremble  much,  or  at  least  not  visibly,"  said 
Doris,  smiling;  "but  we  have  three  perfectly  faithful  and 
devoted  ones,  Hagar — Glasgow's  widow,  you  know — and  her 
two  children,  Pareen  and  Cudjoe.  Cud  joe  is  very  much 
like  his  father,  papa  has  always  said;  but  Pareen  is  much 
brighter  and  more  intelligent  than  her  mother,  and  learns 
everything  I  have  time  to  teach  her.  But  Jeanie,  time  is 
precious,  for  there's  no  telling  when  two  such  important 
people  as  we  are  may  meet  again,  and  I  have  so  much  to  say 
to  you !  I  had  thought  myself  stupid  about  our  problem, 
when  something  Leonard  said  gave  me  a  fresh  start,  though 
in  an  old  direction,"  and  Doris  gave  in  a  few  words  the  gist 
of  Leonard's  narrative  about  Mr.  Hanson,  adding:  "Now 
you  see,  in  all  our  speculations  and  endeavors  to  think  of 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  263 

something  practicable,  we  have  always  taken  for  granted  that 
our  heads  were  to  have  everything  to  do,  and  our  hands 
nothing,  excepting  when  we  had  that  balf-in-fun  talk  about 
cooking,  and  I  begin  to  believe  we  have  been  curiously 
blind,  only  I  can't  as  yet  see  my  way  quite  clearly.  Can 
you  think  of  anything  we  could  make,  that  people  would 
buy  ?  Do  you  think  they  would  buy  jelly  ?  " 

"  You  must  give  me  a  little  time — you  always  were  an 
overwhelming  sort  of  creature,"  said  Jane,  laughing  at  Do 
ris's  impetuosity  ;  "  you  see,  your  idea  is  one  I  can't  quite 
endorse — it  staggers  me  a  little.  What  are  brains  and  the 
cultivation  of  them  good  for,  if  one  has  to  resort  to  'main 
strength  and  stupidity '  at  the  first  need  for  action  ?  " 

"  Some  people  might  think  that  the  brains  would  come  in 
usefully  to  keep  the  main  strength  from  being  wasted 
through  stupidity,"  said  Doris,  a  little  annoyed  by  Jane's 
charge  of  overwhelmingness — she  had  fancied  of  late  that 
she  had  grown  so  very  sedate  and  sensible.  "And  besides, 
if  the  community  will  not  buy  diamonds  and  will  buy  pota 
toes,  a  wise  merchant  will  invest  in  potatoes.  We  should  no 
doubt  make  magnificent  teachers,  but  the  first  requisite  for 
the  success  of  a  magnificent  teacher  is — scholars.  And  per 
haps  you  and  I  will  be  a  famous  artist  and  composer,  one  of 
these  days  ;  but  in  the  meantime  I,  at  least,  should  like  a 
little  money." 

"And  so  should  I,  dear.  You've  heard  about  papa,  of 
course.  I  mentioned  in  my  note  how  sorry  I  was  that  your 
father  was  in  the  same  unlucky  boat.  Papa  had  a  little 
money  in  some  safe  place — if  any  place  but  an  old  stocking 
is  safe  just  now — but  the  plantation  has  gone  behind  so  this 
year  that  he  is  feeling  very  much  discouraged,  and  I  am 
wishing  more  than  ever  that  I  could  think  of  some  imme 
diate  way  of  making  money,  which  did  not  require  an  invest 
ment  to  start  it.  I  know  of  a  number  of  brilliant  possibilities, 


264  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

which  only  want  a  few  thousands  to  set  them  in  motion,  but 
I  don't  seem  able  to  command  the  thousands  at  this  present 
writing." 

Clara  Barrett  was  much  more  quiet  and  reserved  than 
Jane,  and,  after  her  first  pleasant  greeting  to  Doris,  she  had 
listened  with  interest  to  all  that  was  said,  but  had  taken 
little  or  no  share  in  the  conversation.  Now,  however,  she 
spoke,  with  some  diffidence  about  the  reception  of  what  she 
said: 

"I  thought  of  something  some  time  ago,  but  I  was  not 
certain  that  it  was  worth  while ;  and,  as  Doris  says,  all  your 
plans  have  left  all  sorts  of  handwork  entirely  out — but  if 
you  care  to  hear,  I  have  my  idea  in  portable  shape,  and  shall 
be  happy  to  hand  it  over." 

"  Of  course  we  care  to  hear,"  said  Doris,  warmly ;  "  you 
always  did  do  the  thinking  while  we  did  the  talking,  you 
know." 

Clara  looked  pleased  with  this  frank  tribute,  and  proceed 
ed  to  expound  her  idea. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  "  how  cheap  both  fruit  and  sugar 
are  here,  and  yet  what  an  inferior  quality  of  jelly  and  pre 
serves  is  made  for  exportation!  So  often  people  who  are 
stopping  for  a  little  while  in  the  Island  exclaim  about  the 
home-made  guava  jelly,  and  say  they  wish  that  it  could  be 
bought.  Mamma  has  given  away  quantities,  and  everybody 
has  seemed  so  delighted  with  it,  that  I  am  sure  it  would  be 
largely  bought,  if  it  were  offered  for  sale;  and  besides,  I 
think  we  could  dispose  of  it  in  the  States,  if  we  could  learn 
the  name  of  some  large  fancy-grocer,  or  some  merchant  of 
that  kind." 

"Clara,  you  are  a  hitherto  unrecognized  genius!"  cried 
Doris,  delightedly.  "We  could  begin  on  ever  so  small  a 
scale,  right  in  our  own  houses,  without  any  machinery  but  a 
bell-metal  kettle  and  a  jelly-bag,  and  our  first  sale  would 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  265 

provide  the  capital  for  a  larger  venture,  as  we  said  that  time 
we  talked  of  it.  Oh,  Jeanie,  I  believe  it  could  really  be 
done  ! " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrett  and  Leonard  had  stopped  their  con 
versation  to  listen,  as  Clara  expounded  her  theory,  and  now 
Mr.  Barrett,  with  an  amused  smile,  said : 

"  Hadn't  you  better  make  it  a  partnership  affair?  You 
could  begin  with  a  dozen  jars,  then,  and  divide  the  risk 
among  you." 

"Oh,  you  may  laugh,  papa,"  said  Jane,  stoutly,  "but  we 
are  too  much  in  earnest  to  be  laughed  down,  and,  unless  you 
and  mamma  positively  forbid  it,  that  first  dozen  will  be  tried 
very  soon." 

"  We  shall  not  forbid  it,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Barrett,  gently, 
"  if  you  will  only  undertake  it  in  a  moderate  and  sensible 
manner  ;  I  see  no  reason,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  Doris's 
mother  will  see  any,  why  you  should  not  be  permitted  to 
make  a  little  money  for  yourselves,  until  times  mend,  and 
we  can  supply  your  wishes  as  well  as  your  wants.  But  you 
must  count  the  cost  first,  not  in  money  alone,  but  in  time 
and  patience,  and  not  let  yourselves  be  carried  away  by  ex 
citement." 

"I  think  that  is  just  what  mamma  would  say,"  replied 
Doris,  "  and  I  mean  to  try  to  be  very  sensible  and  business 
like,  and  only  run  the  smallest  possible  risk  just  at  first." 

Leonard  was  silent,  and  Doris  was  sure,  from  the  expres 
sion  of  his  face,  that  Clara's  idea  had  found  no  favor  with 
him,  so  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  she  changed  the  subject; 
she  could  pursue  it  with  Jeanie  another  time,  and  she  hoped 
to  be  able  to  convince  Leonard  in  the  meantime.  He  con 
sulted  with  Mr.  Barrett,  before  they  left  the  house,  upon  the 
expediency  of  importing  white  laborers,  but  the  latter  did 
not  encourage  the  project ;  he  thought  that  it  would  excite 
much  jealousy  and  ill-feeling  among  the  negroes,  and  that, 


266  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

unless  a  very  large  number  were  brought  out,  they  would 
probably  be  either  openly  attacked  or  secretly  annoyed. 
Leonard  was  much  disappointed,  but  he  lyiew  that  Mr. 
Barrett's  judgment  in  the  matter  was  much  more  to  be  relied 
upon  than  his  own,  and  he  resolved  to  wait  patiently  and 
observe  closely,  and  also  to  ask  the  opinion  of  some  of  the 
other  planters. 

The  evening  passed  only  too  swiftly,  and  Doris,  afraid 
that  her  mother  would  lie  awake  listening  for  her  return, 
sprang  up  at  the  stroke  of  ten  o'clock,  and  hurried  Leonard 
off. 

They  talked  for  a  little  while  about  the  beauty  of  the 
evening  and  the  pleasantness  of  their  friends,  but  presently 
Leonard  said,  abruptly : 

"I  wish  you  would  leave  Clara  in  full  possession  of  her 
crazy  little  plan,  dear.  I  said  nothing  of  what  I  thought  of 
it  there,  of  course  ;  but  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  hear 
Mr.  Barrett  give  even  a  qualified  permission,  for  he  is  still 
well  and  strong,  if  he  is  no  longer  very  young,  and  quite 
able  to  work  for  his  wife  and  daughters." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  displease  you,  dear  brother,"  said  Doris, 
gently,  "but  indeed  I  think  you  are  mistaken  in  your  ideas 
about  what  women  ought,  or  rather  ought  not,  to  do.  If 
you  could  only  realize  what  a  wearing  and  fretting  thing  it 
is  to  have  to  turn  every  penny  twice  before  one  spends  it, 
and  to  see  so  much  going  wrong  for  want  of  a  little  money 
to  set  it  right,  you  would  acknowledge,  I  think,  that  almost 
any  sort  of  work  would  be  a  preferable  alternative." 

"Perhaps  I  should,"  he  replied.  "I  don't  wish  to  dis 
please  you,  either,  my  dear ;  and  I  am  so  far  from  being  able 
to  help  you,  just  yet,  at  any  rate,  as  I  would  like  to  help 
you,  that  I  have  no  right  to  dictate.  One  of  the  things 
which  I  have  always  noticed  about  Aunt  Agnes  is,  that  she 
makes  people  happy  in  their  own  way,  whenever  that  is 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  267 

possible,  instead  of  in  hers ;  and  if  it  is  really  going  to  add 
to  your  happiness  to  make  an  attempt  of  this  kind,  I  have 
nothing  to  say.  But  I  shall  watch  very  closely  to  see  that 
you  are  not  overworking  yourself,  and  if  I  think  you  are,  I 
shall  promptly  report  you  at  headquarters.  I  give  you  fair 
warning!" 

"Forewarned  is  forearmed,"  said  Doris,  laughing,  "and 
I  shall  carefully  conceal  the  ravages  of  overwork,  if  I  am 
obliged  to  resort  to  paint  and  powder! " 

"Very  well,"  said  Leonard,  in  the  same  tone;  "you  have 
now  yourself  apprised  me  of  the  danger-signal.  I  shall  sur 
reptitiously  rub  your  fair  face  with  a  dark-blue  handkerchief 
at  least  once  a  day,  and  if  any  powder  comes  off,  I  shall 
promptly  use  it  to  explode  your  wild  undertaking;  so  be 
ware,  young  woman,  beware!" 

So,  laughing  and  talking  as  lightly  as  if  the  burden  of 
care  and  disappointment  were  not  to  be  resumed  upon  the 
morrow,  they  finished  their  drive,  and  found  Cudjoe  "wait 
ing  patiently  about "  to  take  the  tired  horse,  well  rewarded 
by  the  kind  words  of  praise  and  thanks  which  were  given 
him  for  his  ingenuity  about  the  chaise.  The  house  was 
quiet,  but  Pareen  was  coiled  up  on  a  rug  before  "Miss 
Agnes V  door,  sleeping  the  light  sleep  for  which  Leonard 
declared  she  ought  to  take  out  a  patent,  for  she  always  main 
tained  that  it  rested  her  as  much  when  she  wras  interrupted 
every  hour,  as  it  did  when  she  had  an  unbroken  night's  rest. 
As  Hagar  grew  older  and  more  infirm,  Pareen  was  quietly 
stepping  into  her  place,  but  with  much  more  energy  and 
decision  of  character  than  her  mother  had  ever  shown.  She 
would  not  have  been  content  to  go  to  bed  before  Doris 
returned,  and  she  gave  a  cheerful  report  of  her  master  and 
mistress  as  she  lighted  Doris's  candle  and  helped  her  to 
take  off  her  dress.  Doris  sometimes  accused  herself  of 
weak-mindedness  for  allowing  Pareen  still  to  continue  such 


268  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

little  services  as  these  when  there  was  so  much  real  work  to 
be  done,  but  always  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  Pareen, 
rather  than  she  herself,  would  suffer,  were  they  to  be  discon 
tinued — she  so  evidently  enjoyed  this  last  half-hour  with  her 
little  mistress,  and  saved  so  many  subjects  of  conversation 
for  it. 

Mrs.  Campbell  was  at  first  inclined  to  take  Leonard's  view 
of  the  preserving  scheme,  but  when  she  found  how  Doris's 
heart  was  set  upon  it,  and  how  moderately  and  sensibly  the 
beginning  was  to  be  made,  she  offered  no  opposition. 
Hagar  was  very  skillful  at  this  sort  of  work,  and  liked  to  do 
it ;  so  that  Doris  would  be  able  to  have  it  done,  so  long  as 
she  only  required  it  done  on  a  small  scale,  without  any 
trouble  or  fatigue  to  herself.  This  was  a  little  disappoint 
ment  to  her  at  first,  for,  in  her  zeal,  she  had  wished  to  work 
as  well  as  plan  ;  but  she  yielded,  as  she  so  often  did,  her  own 
wish  to  her  mother's,  and,  as  usual,  was  glad  enough,  before 
long,  that  she  had  done  so,  for  her  hands  had  been  tolerably 
full  before  this  new  idea  had  occurred  to  her.  Besides,  that 
which  would  have  been  toilsome  and  tedious  to  her  was 
light  and  easy  to  Hagar's  practised  hands.  The  only  outlay 
needed  at  the  beginning  would  be  for  jars,  and  even  this 
would  have  been  unnecessary  had  not  the  store-room  been 
burned.  Doris  wisely  contented  herself  with  two  dozen 
jars  to  begin  with ;  it  would  be  time  enough  to  buy  more 
when  these  should  be  disposed  of.  She  had  had  a  pleas 
ant  speaking  acquaintance,  as  long  as  she  could  remem 
ber,  with  the  old  merchant  in  Frederickstadt  who  kept  an 
exceedingly  miscellaneous  assortment  of  goods,  and  he  cheer 
fully  undertook  to  offer  her  wares  for  sale,  assuring  her, 
good-humoredly,  that  he  would  not  demand  all  the  profits 
for  his  percentage.  In  reality,  he  kept  no  percentage  at  all; 
but  he  knew  it  would  distress  her  to  know  this,  and  she  was 
too  unsuspicious,  and  too  new  to  the  business,  to  question 


DORIS  AND   THEODORA.  269 

him  closely.  Her  delight  and  surprise  were  equal  when  he 
reported  to  her,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  that  the  whole  two 
dozen  had  sold  readily,  and  handed  her,  "  with  all  expenses 
deducted,"  as  he  gravely  informed  her,  a  sum  which  more 
than  doubled  that  spent  for  the  jars  and  fruit,  calculating 
the  latter  at  usual  market  prices.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
this  sudden  success  turned  her  head  a  little,  and,  but  for  her 
mother's  gentle  restraint,  she  would  probably  have  launched 
forth  on  a  rather  imprudent  cruise ;  but  she  was  obliged  to 
admit  that  "  he  who  goes  softly  goes  safely,"  and  limited  her 
next  venture  to  four  dozen  jars.  These  also  were  sold,  in  a 
longer  time  than  it  had  taken  to  dispose  of  the  first  venture, 
but  still  with  reasonable  promptness,  and  Mr.  Andersen, 
the  old  merchant,  gave  her,  besides  the  money,  information 
which  was  quite  as  good.  It  had  occurred  to  him  at  once, 
when  Doris  opened  negotiations,  that  an  arrangement  might 
he  made  with  a  wholesale  grocer  in  New  York  from  whom 
he  purchased  supplies,  and  he  had  written  as  soon  as  he  had 
seen  the  jelly,  and  could  vouch  for  its  superiority  over  that 
made  in  the  factories.  The  answer  had  been  favorable,  for 
although  the  New  York  merchant  offered  a  lower  price  than 
could  be  obtained  from  visitors  to  the  Island,  he  proposed  to 
take  a  gross  of  jars  or  tumblers  as  soon  as  "  the  manufac 
turer  "  chose  to  send  it,  and,  should  this  amount  prove  satis 
factory  and  sell  well,  he  would  accept  all  that  she  chose  to 
send,  not  exceeding  an  average  of  a  gross  a  month.  The 
keen  pleasure  which  Doris  felt  upon  hearing  this  was  some 
thing  she  always  remembered. 

Now,  she  felt  sure,  was  the  time  to  combine  forces  with 
Jane  and  Clara.  Jane  had  already  disposed  of  a  few  jars  in 
another  shop,  but  not  upon  such  good  terms  as  Mr.  Andersen 
had  made  with  Doris,  and  she  was  only  too  glad  to  feel  that 
she  was  working  for  a  certainty.  A  council  was  held,  but 
although  they  tried  to  think  of  some  plan  by  which  they 


270  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

might  work  together,  they  could  hit  upon  none  which 
seemed  practicable,  so  they  reluctantly  agreed  that,  for  the 
present  at  least,  they  must  be  content  to  work  separately  for 
the  same  object,  and  report  progress  to  each  other  as  fre 
quently  as  might  be. 

Pareen,  deeply  interested  in  all  that  concerned  her  young 
mistress,  made  time  to  help  her  mother,  and  her  eager 
activity  seemed  to  put  new  life  into  Ilagar.  The  partners 
had  the  gross  ready  for  shipment  in  two  weeks  from  the 
time  when  the  order  was  received.  Jane  and  Clara  brought 
their  share  to  Mr.  Campbell's,  where  Cudjoe's  dexterous  hands 
made  and  packed  the  neat  boxes.  There  had  been  a  lively 
discussion  as  to  whether  it  would  be  better  to  use  small 
boxes,  such  as  were  used  in  the  factories,  or  the  more 
attractive-looking  tumblers  and  jars,  and  the  decision  had 
been  in  favor  of  the  latter. 

Doris  had  applied  to  Mr.  Andersen  for  the  requisite  num 
ber,  and  he  had  sold  them  to  her  at  a  price  which  even  she 
suspected  was  below  their  market  value,  but  he  reminded 
her  that  she  had  never  bought  anything  at  wholesale  before, 
and  added  that  if  she  meant  to  make  a  successful  business 
woman  she  might  beat  prices  down,  but  never  try  to  make 
people  raise  them. 

The  firm  had  an  anxious  four  weeks,  after  the  jelly  was 
shipped,  but  not  by  any  means  an  idle  one.  Clara  was  not 
so  strong  and  vigorous  as  Jane,  and,  although  she  tried 
bravely  to  conceal  the  faintness  and  fatigue  which  followed 
her  unwonted  exertions,  the  watchful  eyes  of  her  parents  and 
sister  were  too  keen  for  her  to  succeed,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
she  must  either  retire  from  the  firm,  or  limit  her  work  to  the 
manufacture  and  inscription  of  labels  and  covers.  The  disap 
pointment  to  her  was  very  great ;  and  her  mother,  more  with  a 
view  to  her  consolation  than  with  any  idea  of  profit,  suggested 
that  she  should  finish  a  piece  of  delicate  embroidery  on  linen, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  271 

which  she  had  been  for  some  time  working  at,  and  place  it 
for  sale  in  a  small  dry-goods  and  trimming  shop  in  Fred- 
erickstadt,  which  was  in  great  favor  with  the  planters'  wives 
and  daughters,  as  well  as  with  many  of  the  citizens.  This 
she  did,  and  not  only  did  her  pretty  work  sell  promptly,  but 
she  very  soon  received  an  order  for  a  similar  piece,  and 
nothing  could  so  have  consoled  her  for  her  disappoint 
ment. 

The  tidings  which  the  eager  girls  at  last  received  from  the 
New  York  merchant  were  most  encouraging.  He  was  de 
lighted  with  the  jelly,  which,  he  said,  was  entirely  different 
from  any  which  had  ever  come  in  his  way  before ;  it  was 
selling  readily,  and  he  should  be  glad  to  receive  more  at  the 
earliest  convenience  of  "the  manufacturer."  He  enclosed 
the  sum  agreed  upon,  and  offered  to  procure  for  them,  at 
reduced  rates,  as  many  gross  of  jars  and  tumblers  as  they 
wished  to  order,  adding  that  he  could  deduct  payment  for 
them  from  his  next  remittance  for  jelly.  This  would  be  a 
real  help,  and  the  offer  was  immediately  and  joyfully  ac 
cepted  by  Clara,  who  had  been  appointed  secretary  of  the 
company,  and  who,  with  an  old  letter  of  her  fathers  for  a 
copy,  was  earnestly  endeavoring  to  acquire  a  "  business- 
hand." 

Doris  could  not,  or  did  not,  help  triumphing  a  little  over 
Leonard,  at  the  present  and  prospective  success  of  their  en 
terprise,  but,  while  he  admitted  all  that  she  wished  him  to 
admit,  upon  that  head,  he  maintained  that  he  disliked  to  see 
her  so  employed,  and  begged  her  to  reconsider  the  matter, 
before  pledging  herself  in  any  way  for  a  continuance  of  the 
undertaking.  But  Doris  was  less  than  ever  inclined  to  give 
it  up  now,  and  laughingly  refuted  all  his  arguments,  saying 
that  when  he  gave  up  the  plantation,  she  would  give  up  her 
jelly. 

He  was  incessantly  busy  now,  but  so  far  with  no  very 


£73  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

encouraging  results.  No  one  had  thought  it  advisable  to 
import  white  laborers  ;  the  negroes,  with  very  few  excep 
tions,  grew  less  and  less  trustworthy,  and  Leonard  was  be 
coming  reluctantly  convinced  that  the  sale  of  the  plantation 
was  the  only  real  hope. 

He  said  nothing,  as  yet,  of  his  conviction  to  his  aunt  or 
Doris,  much  less  to  his  uncle,  who  grew  daily  more  feeble, 
and  less  able  to  understand  his  affairs,  for  it  did  not  seem  at 
all  probable,  just  now,  that  any  one  would  make  a  good  offer, 
and  meanwhile,  he  still  had  a  faint  hope  that  matters  might 
improve.  All  talk  of  the  new  house  was  abandoned,  save  by 
Mr.  Campbell,  who  continued  to  plan  and  arrange,  in  happy 
ignorance  of  the  real  state  of  things.  He  daily  grew  weaker, 
both  in  body  and  mind ;  but  gradually,  after  Leonard's 
arrival,  he  became  more  cheerful  and  contented.  He  list 
ened  with  deep  interest  to  all  that  was  told  him,  but  forgot 
it  almost  immediately,  so  that  Leonard  gave  up  all  attempts 
to  keep  him  conversant  with  the  daily  business.  He  did 
this  with  his  aunt's  full  sanction,  but  very  reluctantly,  never 
theless.  It  seemed  to  kim  almost  like  treason,  to  be  con 
ducting  his  uncle's  business-affairs  entirely  on  his  own 
responsibility,  and  it  was  only  after  repeated  attempts  had 
convinced  him  of  the  utter  futility  of  it,  that  he  gave  up 
consulting  Mr.  Campbell,  who  always,  when  Leonard  began 
to  tell  him  anything,  seemed,  for  a  few  minutes,  entirely 
rational,  but  soon  showed,  by  some  irrelevant  question,  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  think  connectedly. 

Mrs.  Campbell  alone  clung  to  the  hope  that  his  physical 
health  might  improve,  and  that  with  returning  bodily 
strength,  his  mind  might  also  strengthen;  but  Dr.  Svensen 
could  not  encourage  her  in  this  hope,  and  to  Doris  and 
Leonard  it  was  only  too  plain  that  Mr.  Campbell  failed  daily. 

Doris  saw  and  thought  but  little  of  any  one  outside  her 
home,  in  these  days.  Mind  and  body  were  heavily  taxed, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  273 

but  she  had  the  good  sense  to  see  that  her  health  was  a  mat 
ter  of  importance  to  others  as  well  as  to  herself,  and  to  take 
as  much  care  of  it  as  she  could,  under  the  circumstances,  so 
that  those  she  loved  best  should  not  suffer  needlessly  through 
her.  Leonard  watched  her  closely,  with  the  quick  percep 
tion  which  affection  gives,  and  lightened  many  of  her  bur 
dens — all,  indeed ;  for  where  he  could  not  give  her  material 
aid,  he  could  and  did  give  that  which  is  almost  as  great,  the 
aid  of  comforting  sympathy. 

Jane  Barrett  came  whenever  she  possibly  could,  but  this 
was  not  very  often,  for  her  share  of  the  jelly-making  kept 
her  busy,  whenever  she  was  not  attending  to  home-affairs. 
Mr.  Barrett  was  struggling  bravely,  and  with  some  prospect 
of  success,  to  keep  his  plantation,  and  establish  it  once  more 
upon  a  paying  basis,  but  to  do  this,  the  strictest  economy 
was  necessary,  and  Jane  and  Clara  developed  an  amount  of 
ingenuity  and  resource  for  which  their  mother  and  father 
could  scarcely  praise  them  enough ;  but  they  laughingly  de 
clared  that  Miss  Robeston  was  the  "  first  cause  "  of  all  that 
was  practically  clever  in  them,  and  that  she  deserved  the 
praise. 

When  Doris  had  time  to  think,  she  grieved  much  over  the 
separation  from  Antoinette,  who,  while  she  grew  no  worse, 
grew  no  better  either,  and,  although  she  never  complained, 
felt  keenly  the  loss  of  the  visits  which  Doris  and  the  Bar 
retts  used  so  frequently  to  make  her,  in  the  happy  days 
which  they  already  began  to  call  "old  times." 

Doris  had  felt  a  nervous  dread  of  the  first  meeting  between 
Leonard  and  Hilda,  and  had  at  first  been  thankful  for  the 
non-appearance  of  the  latter ;  but  when  two  or  three  weeks 
had  passed,  and  still  she  did  not  come,  Doris  began  to  find 
the  suspense  and  anxiety  extremely  irritating,  and  to  wish 
the  visit  over. 

Leonard  had  been  at  home  a  month,  when  Hilda  at  last 


274  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

called,  and,  although  he  was  still  unable  to  conquer  his  love 
for  her,  he  was  at  least  able  to  conceal  the  struggle,  and  the 
meeting  which  Doris  had  so  dreaded  was  such  a  very  quiet 
and  common-place  affair,  that  she  felt  a  whimsical  sense  of 
disappointment,  which  culminated  when  Leonard,  in  even 
tones  and  well-chosen  words,  congratulated  Hilda  upon  her 
engagement.  Hilda's  reply  was  equally  appropriate,  and 
made  with  perfect  composure,  and  it  did  more  to  disenchant 
Leonard  than  all  his  reasoning  with  himself  had  effected. 

After  this  "  trial-trip,"  as  Doris  felt  it  to  be,  Hilda  re 
sumed  her  visits  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  interrupt 
them,  and  managed,  in  a  very  quiet  and  unobtrusive  man 
ner,  to  convey  many  a  small  pleasure  into  Doris's  monoto 
nous  and  anxious  life,  carefully  choosing  things  which  would 
carry  with  them  no  heavy  sense  of  obligation ;  sometimes  it 
was  a  new  book  or  magazine,  'sometimes  a  rare  flower  or 
basket  of  choice  fruit,  and  sometimes  a  dainty  bit  of  needle 
work  or  painting.  It  seemed  to  Doris,  at  first,  as  if  she 
could  not  accept  even  these  small  favors  from  Hilda's  hands, 
and  her  honest  face  revealed  the  struggle  in  her  mind  be 
tween  the  old  habit  of  affection,  and  the  new  feeling  of  re 
sentment  for  Leonard.  Hilda  watched  her  for  a  moment 
with  a  half  smile,  and  then  said,  gently: 

"  Why  should  we  quarrel,  Doris  ?  You  may  at  least 
believe  in  my  regard  for  you  and  your  mother  and  father, 
and  will  you  not  rest  on  that,  for  the  present  ?  When  I  am 
gone,  you  can  forget  me  as  fast  as  you  please,  you  know  ;  so 
don't  deprive  me  of  a  little  innocent  pleasure  in  the  mean 
time,  my  dear." 

"  I  can't  forget  you,  and  you  know  I  can't,  though  I 
sometimes  almost  wish  that  I  could,"  replied  Doris,  with  a 
quiver  of  suppressed  feeling  in  her  voice;  "  and  I  can't  help 
loving  you,  either,  when  you  seem  so  like  your  old  self.  If 
I  could  only  forget "  she  checked  herself,  just  in  time  ; 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  275 

it  would  be  ungenerous,  now,  to  remind  Hilda  of  that  word 
less  confession. 

"  It  is  an  art  that  can  be  acquired,"  said  Hilda,  smiling 
placidly,  and  with  a  look  of  such  entire  unconsciousness  that 
Doris  was  almost  convinced  that  it  could. 

One  thing  was  clear — discussions  of  this  kind  were  worse 
than  useless,  and,  after  many  mental  struggles,  Doris  at  last 
wisely  decided  to  take  what  comfort  she  could  from  Hilda's 
evident  and  real  affection  for  herself,  and  leave  Leonard, 
since  he  appeared  to  be  quite  equal  to  the  undertaking,  to 
fight  his  own  battle.  But  she  still  felt  a  pang  of  self- 
reproach  whenever  she  found  that  she  was  again  taking 
pleasure  in  Hilda's  society,  and  tried  to  find  something, 
afterward,  which  should  give  some  special  pleasure  to  Leon 
ard,  by  way  of  atoning  to  herself  for  the  disloyalty  !  And 
to  Leonard,  who  could  not  help  seeing  through  it,  this 
mental  process  was  both  touching  and  amusing. 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

DTJKINGr  the  long  anxiety  of  Mr.  Campbell's  illness, 
and  the  struggle  to  restore  the  plantation  to  order 
and  profitableness,  Mr.  Santon's  letters  grew  more  frequent, 
and  less  wholly  devoted  to  musical  topics.  But  he  begged 
Doris  to  consider  her  studies  postponed,  not  finally  stopped, 
and  seemed  greatly  pleased  when  she  wrote  him  of  the  re 
sumption  of  her  singing,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the 
guitar.  He  had  a  sense  of  disappointment,  now,  if  the 
answers  to  his  letters  were  much  delayed,  or  were  shorter 
than  usual,  and  Doris  would  have  missed  the  letters,  had 
they  been  suddenly  discontinued,  far  more  than  she  imag 
ined.  They  always  brought  a  refreshing  suggestion  of  the 
outside  world,  for  he  was  a  keen  observer,  and  his  opportu 
nities  for  observation  were  large.  He  was  still  playing  for 
concerts,  though  not  so  frequently  as  he  had  done  a  few 
years  ago,  for  he  was  beginning  to  make  his  mark  as  a  com 
poser,  and  hoped  to  be  able,  before  long,  to  relinquish  both 
teaching  and  public  performances.  The  latter,  especially, 
he  had  never  liked,  and  the  prospect  of  freedom  from  them 
was  very  pleasant  to  him.  He  often  spoke  of  his  nephew, 
and  always  with  warm  affection  and  praise— Victor  was 
studying  with  a  zeal  which  promised  well,  his  uncle  said,  for 
his  future.  Doris  wondered,  sometimes,  that  Mr.  Santon 
said  nothing  about  revisiting  the  Island,  but  she  felt  little  or 
no  impatience  to  see  him  again. 

The  preparations  for  Hilda's  marriage  were  extensive,  and 
went  steadily  on,  but  she  rarely  mentioned  anything  con 
nected  with  them  to  Doris,  although  her  visits  grew  rather 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  077 

more  frequent,  as  the  time  for  her  departure  drew  near,  and 
her  thoughtful  kindness  increased.  As  Doris  saw  how  com 
pletely  Leonard  appeared  to  have  conquered  himself — with 
what  quiet  friendliness  he  and  Hilda  met  and  parted,  she 
grew  gradually  reconciled  to  the  inevitable,  and  even  tried  to 
persuade  herself  that  she  had,  perhaps,  been  mistaken,  and 
that  Hilda  had  never  really  cared  for  him.  That  he  had 
cared  for  her,  Doris  could  not  doubt,  and  she  could  not  help 
feeling  a  little  disappointed  at  the  apparent  ease  with  which 
he  had  given  up  his  hopes,  and  accepted  his  fate.  If  Leonard, 
so  much,  as  she  believed  him  to  be,  above  the  average  young 
man,  could  be  thus  readily  cured  of  a  heartbreak,  she  must 
renounce  her  faith  in  undying  affection  and  constancy,  and 
this  she  was  very  loth  to  do.  Arid  yet,  she  argued  with 
herself,  Leonard  had  no  right  to  love  Lieutenant  Jansen's 
betrothed,  much  less  his  wife  !  It  was  a  puzzling  business, 
and  she  finally  decided  to  retain  her  theory  for  her  own  com 
fort,  and  drop  the  question  of  its  invariable  practicableness, 
at  least  for  the  present.  Leonard  certainly  had  been  faith 
ful,  so  long  as  there  was  the  slightest  prospect  that  his  faith 
fulness  might,  even  in  the  remote  future,  be  recognized  and 
rewarded,  and  what  more  could  be  expected  of  a  healthy  and 
naturally  cheerful  young  man,  with  nearly  all  his  life  before 
him? 

Leonard  had  not  succeeded  so  well  as  Doris,  and  even 
Hilda,  thought  that  he  had,  in  overcoming  useless  regret, 
but  the  hard  schooling  through  which  he  was  passing  was 
already  bearing  good  fruit.  He  had  come  home,  determined 
not  to  feel,  all  the  time,  that  he  was  making  a  sacrifice,  but 
to  make  it  once  for  all,  before  he  started,  and  cast  the  recol 
lection  of  it,  so  far  as  might  be,  entirely  behind  him.  He 
wished  earnestly  to  be  a  cheering  and  sustaining  power  to 
his  beloved  ones,  and  he  knew  that  this  would  be  impossible, 
if  he  were  constantly  brooding  over  what  he  had  given  up, 


278  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

or  rather  postponed  for  them.  So  he  made  a  business-like 
arrangement  with  himself  that,  so  soon  as  his  uncle's  family 
should  be  safe,  and  free  from  difficulties,  he  would  return 
to  his  studies.  The  mock-heroic  never  appealed  to  him,  so 
he  had  no  desire  to  sacrifice,  permanently,  the  "  Career " 
about  which  Doris  and  he  still  laughed  and  joked.  He  knew 
that  one  of  two  things  must  happen,  within  no  very  long 
time  :  either  the  plantation,  under  active  and  intelligent 
care,  would  radically  improve,  and  he  could  leave  it,  with 
occasional  supervision,  under  Doris's  and  Cudjoe's  care,  or  it 
would  go  on  deteriorating  still  more  rapidly,  and  then,  he 
felt  confident,  it  would  be  better  to  be  on  the  look-out  for  a 
purchaser,  and  part  with  it,  even  at  some  sacrifice. 

In  the  latter  case,  his  uncle's  family  would,  he  hoped,  de 
cide  to  come  to  the  United  States,  and  make  a  home  there. 
Should  Doris  insist  upon  teaching,  she  would  find  opportu 
nities  to  do  so  such  as  could  not  possibly  be  found  upon  the 
Island;  but  he  hoped  that,  in  the  event  of  their  removal,  a 
sufficient  price  to  make  this  unnecessary  might  be  obtained 
for  the  estate.  Some  few  of  the  planters,  who  had  been  for 
tunate  in  securing  earlier  and  more  efficient  service  than 
their  neighbors  had  been  able  to  secure,  were  still  flourish 
ing,  and  had  even  made  good  the  slight  losses  which  the 
rebellion  had  caused  them.  Among  these  was  Mrs.  Santon. 
She  had  relied,  for  many  years,  upon  the  care  of  an  unusu 
ally  trustworthy  and  successful  overseer,  and  he  had  be 
stirred-  himself  in  such  good  earnest,  that  the  few  vacant 
places  among  their  laborers  were  filled  before  any  great 
amount  of  damage  was  done.  Their  remoteness  from  the 
scene  of  the  riot  had  been  a  strong  point  in  their  favor,  and, 
although  they  did  not  know  it,  either  at  the  time  or  after 
ward,  the  many  kind  and  generous  things  which  Antoinette 
had  done,  both  personally  and  by  proxy,  among  the  negroes, 
in  times  of  sickness  and  trouble,  had  wielded  a  strong  influ- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  279 

ence,  both  in  protecting  them  and  their  property,  and  in  pro 
viding  them  with  service  afterward. 

But  the  most  serious  result  to  them  was  the  decline  in 
Antoinette's  health  which  soon  followed.  She  had  felt  no 
fears  for  herself,  that  night,  but  she  had  been  terribly 
agitated  about  the  danger  and  distress  of  her  friends,  and 
this  agitation  had  much  increased  her  feebleness.  About 
Doris,  especially,  she  had  been  greatly  concerned.  She 
missed,  exceedingly,  the  visits  and  long  talks,  which  had 
been  among  her  chief  pleasures,  but  over  and  above  this,  she 
grieved  over  the  trouble  which  had  come  to  her  friend,  as  no 
trials  of  her  own  had  power  to  make  her  grieve.  She  saw 
Doris,  now,  only  at  long  intervals,  and  fancied  that  she 
looked,  each  time,  paler,  thinner,  more  marked  with  the  fine 
lines  of  care  and  anxiety. 

At  one  of  these  rare  meetings,  when,  Mr.  Campbell  being 
better  and  brighter  than  usual,  Leonard  had  coaxed  Doris  to 
drive  with  him  to  Mrs.  Santon's,  Antoinette's  unconscious 
gaze  into  her  friend's  face  was  so  full  of  loving  distress,  that 
Doris  asked,  laughingly  : 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?  Did  I  forget  to  wash  my  face  before 
I  came,  and  do  you  see  '  the  key  of  the  kitchen '  any 
where  ?" 

"  Oh  Doris ! "  and  Antoinette  smiled,  but  not  heartily. 
"  You  know  it  isn't  that,"  she  said,  "  and  perhaps  I  ought 
not  to  speak  of  it ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that,  while  you  are 
taking  care  of  everybody  else,  you  are  forgetting  to  take  care 
of  yourself.  You  certainly  have  grown  thinner,  since  you 
were  here  last,  and  you  have  not  half  as  much  color  in  your 
cheeks  as  you  used  to  have." 

"  Of  course  I  have  grown  thinner,"  said  Doris,  cheerfully, 
"for  don't  you  see  that,  absurd  as  it  is  at  my  age,  I  have 
actually  grown  a  little  taller  in  the  past  year?  And  as  for 
my  color,  a  good  deal  of  that  was  tan,  and  you  ought  to  con- 


280  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

gratulate  me  upon  being  rid  of  that.  And  there's  not  the 
slightest  need  of  my  taking  care  of  myself — mamma,  and 
Leonard,  and  Hagar,  and  even  Pareen  and  Cudjoe,  are  con 
tinually  pouncing  upon  me  and  taking  things  out  of  my 
hands,  until  I  am  really  filled  with  gratitude  sometimes  for 
being  allowed  to  comb  my  own  hair.  What  has  set  you  wor 
rying  about  me,  'Toinette?  It  does  not  seem  at  all  like 
you." 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  I  love  you  so  much,"  replied  An 
toinette,  simply;  "and  yet  I  have  been  thinking  lately, 
Doris,  about  that  *  casting  all  your  care  upon  Him/'  It 
seems  easy  enough,  when  it  is  only  about  one's  self ;  and  I 
feel  as  if  I  must  be  very  faithless  and  shallow  to  be  able  to 
do  only  the  easy  part,  and  fail  when  it  comes  to  something 
really  hard.  For  you  see  there  is  so  little  I  can  do  for  Him. 
Almost  anybody  could  be  patient  and  quiet,  with  all  the  love 
and  care  and  attention  that  I  receive,  so  that  isn't  much ;  I 
have  hardly  time  to  think  of  a  wish,  before  mamma  divines 
it  somehow,  and,  unless  it  is  something  quite  impossible,  ful 
fills  it,  too.  And  now,  even  when  the  pain  is  worst,  Dr. 
Svensen  has  found  a  new  medicine  which  makes  it  quite 
bearable,  and  Victor  and  uncle  keep  sending  me  every  new 
contrivance  they  can  find,  to  make  reading  and  writing  and 
going  about  possible  to  good-for-nothing  people,  so  that  I 
would  have  to  be  a  perfect  monster  of  ingratitude  to  be  un 
happy  and  discontented ;  and  there  is  only  just  this  one 
thing  that  really  requires  an  effort,  and  in  that  I  fail." 

Doris  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  different  estimate 
many  people,  placed  in  Antoinette's  position,  would  put 
upon  it. 

Her  youth  was  passing  away  in  painful  days  and  wakeful 
nights,  unmarked  by  any  more  active  pleasures  than  those 
which  could  be  brought  within  the  compass  of  her  darkened 
room,  yet  110  one  ever  saw  an  expression  of  fretfulness  mar 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  281 

the  sweet  calm  of  her  face,  or  heard  an  impatient  word  from 
her  lips.  Surely  this  was  "  true  and  laudable  service." 

"I  think  you  are  too  hard  upon  yourself,  dear,"  said  Do 
ris,  gently;  "you  never  complain  about  anything,  and  you 
have  so  much  more  time  for  thinking  than  most  people  have, 
that  it  would  be  no  wonder  if  you  were  often  to  think  your 
self  into  fretfulness  and  repining.  Mamma  said  to  me  once, 
that  while  we  should  always  be  much  more  exacting  with 
ourselves  than  we  are  with  other  people,  we  should  try  not 
to  be  more  discouraged." 

"That  is  a  comforting  idea,"  said  Antoinette,  "and  it 
sounds  like  your  dear  mother;  but  I  have  always — or  at 
least  ever  since  I  have  been  ill — been  afraid  of  making  too 
much  allowance  for  myself  on  the  score  of  my  illness.  I 
can't  put  it  into  good  words,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  emer 
gencies,  and  hard  places,  and  impossible-looking  tasks  are 
just  the  chances  that  are  given  us  to  come  off  *  more  than 
conquerors  through  Him  who  loved  us.'  It  is  nothing  for 
those  who  can  walk  at  all  to  walk  along  level,  well-made 
paths,  with  well  shod  feet ;  but  to  keep  on  up  the  steep  and 
rocky  places,  with  bare  feet  and  nothing  to  hold  on  by — that 
is  courage  and  endurance.  What  makes  me  feel  often  that 
I  must  be  all  wrong,  is  seeing  how  not  only  tranquilly,  but 
joyfully,  the  really  religions  people  go  through  everything — 
that  there  is  a  peace  which  nothing  outside  can  shake  or 
destroy." 

"  I  know,"  replied  Doris ;  "  I  have  seen  the  look  you  mean 
on  a  few  faces,  but  very  few.  Old  Mrs.  Barrett's  is  one — 
Jeanie's  grandmother,  you  know — 'and  sometimes  I  think 
Clara  is  growing  very  like  her.  Jeanie  looks  like  her,  in  one 
way,  too;  she  has  the  same  bright,  resolute  expression,  but 
it  will  always,  I  think,  be  hard  work  for  Jeanie  to  be  resigned 
to  anything  she  doesn't  like — you  know  she  says  resignation 
is  often  only  a  plausible  name  for  laziness." 


282  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

(<  And  so  it  is,"  said  Antoinette,  thoughtfully ;  "  and  that 
is  another  trouble.  I  know  quite  well  that  if  Dr.  Svensen 
had  not  insisted,  and  kept  on  insisting,  that  I  should  be 
dressed  and  lie  on  the  lounge  whenever  it  was  at  all  possible, 
I  should  gradually  have  lapsed  into  staying  in  bed  altogether 
— it  is  so  much  less  troublesome.  Yet  I  know  I  am  better, 
morally  as  well  as  physically,  for  nearly  every  exertion  I 
make,  and  I  sometimes  wonder  how  much  more  I  could  be 
driven  to  do  under  the  pressure  of  a  real  necessity,  and  how 
much  of  my  illness  is  due  to  thinking  too  much  about  my 
self." 

"Not  a  great  deal  of  either,  I  fancy,"  said  Doris,  smiling 
because  she  felt  a  sudden  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes,  as  she 
looked  at  the  fragile  little  figure  and  pale,  thin  face,  earnest 
with  thought  and  feeling ;  "and  I'm  not  afraid  of  spoiling 
you,  Toinette,  if  I  tell  you  of  some  of  the  good  you  do.  I 
always  feel  like  taking  a  fresh  start  after  I  have  seen  you — 
it  seems  so  wicked  and  ungrateful  for  me  to  fret  and  com 
plain  about  anything,  when  I  am  well  and  strong,  and  free 
to  use  my  arms  and  legs  as  I  please.  And  I  have  heard  all 
the  other  girls  say  things  of  the  same  kind  about  your  pa 
tience  and  cheerfulness.  I  am  afraid  that,  if  I  were  in  your 
place,  I  should  either  be  savagely  cross  or  in  the  depths  of 
despair  all  the  time,  and  that  I  shouldn't  care  a  pin  what 
became  of  anybody  but  my  precious  self." 

"I  dare  say  I  should,  if  it  had  come  suddenly,"  replied 
Antoinette  ;  "  but  you  see  I  have  been  brought  to  where  I 
am  now  by  very  small  and  slow  degrees,  so  there  has  been 
time  to  make  ready  as  I  went  along.  I'm  very  glad  of  what 
you  tell  me,  Doris  ;  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  think  of  it  some 
times  ;  but  you  all  overvalue  me,  and  think  I  am  making 
much  more  heroic  efforts  than  I  am.  You  don't  know — you 
couldn't  possibly  imagine,  unless  you  had  tried  it  in  the 
same  way — how  lovely  and  good  and  kind  everybody  is.  I 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  283 

sometimes  think  that  if  I  could  be  made  well  all  in  a  minute, 
it  would  hardly  compensate  for  all  the  things  that  I  should 
lose.  Dr.  Svensen  is  always  thinking  of  something — a  new 
book,  or  a  poem  that  he  asks  me  to  translate,  or  some  strange 
flower  that  he  has  picked  up  in  one  of  his  long  rides.  Tt 
was  he,  you  know,  who  coaxed  me  to  learn  Danish,  and  he 
brings  me  such  delightful  things  to  read  in  that  language. 
And  Miss  Christina  so  often  sends  me  dainty  little  things 
she  makes,  or  some  pretty  piece  of  needlework  for  my  room. 
And  all  of  you  girls  are  so  kind  !  If  I  had  no  one  at  all  but 
mamma  and  Victor  and  uncle,  I  should  have  no  excuse  for 
complaining,  while  they  love  me  so  much  and  do  so  much 
for  me,  and  you  see  how  many  things  I  have  beside." 

Doris  did  not  answer  immediately.  She  was  thinking 
that,  with  some  people,  all  that  Antoinette  had  mentioned 
would  have  been  weighed  against  the  one  great  blessing — 
health — and  found  sadly  wanting. 

Antoinette  listened  with  the  liveliest  interest  to  Doris's 
account  of  the  preserving  scheme.  She  had  a  number  of 
relatives  in  the  United  States,  and  she  was  upon  the  point  of 
saying  that  she  knew  they  would  be  glad  of  such  an  oppor 
tunity  to  obtain  genuine  home-made  preserves;  but  a  second 
thought  kept  her  silent  on  that  head — she  would  write,  and 
"  secure  a  definite  order,  and  that  would  be  much  better  than 
an  indefinite  hope.  This  thoughtfulness  for  the  comfort 
and  pleasure  of  others,  in  small  matters  as  well  as  in  great, 
was  one  of  the  things  which  had  gained  and  kept  for  her  the 
many  warm  friends  she  possessed.  She  rarely  spoke  when 
silence  was  better  than  speech,  or  was  silent  when  words 
could  be  made  helpful,  and  her  tact  was  unfailing.  She 
imagined,  in  her  humility,  that  kindness  and  pity  caused  the 
many  attentions  she  so  gratefully  received;  but  pity  and  sym 
pathy  soon  exhaust  themselves,  if  their  object  awakens  no 
other  feeling. 


284  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Although  nothing  very  especial  was  said,  during  the  visit, 
about  Doris's  own  troubles,  she  went  home  with  a  feeling  of 
new  strength  and  patience. 

' i  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  mamma,"  she  said  to  her  mother 
that  evening,  "but  'Toinette  seems  to  live  in  a  different  at 
mosphere  from  mine — it's  like  being  high  up  on  a  mountain, 
above  the  mists  and  clouds,  and  while  I  am  with  her  I  seem 
to  be  almost  up  there  too,  and  to  get  little  whiffs  of  the  same 
air  ;  but  I  don't  stay  up — some  mean  little  feeling  or  other 
is  sure  to  pull  me  down  again  very  soon." 

Mrs.  Campbell  smiled  at  Doris's  manner  of  expressing 
herself. 

"There  are  compensations  everywhere,"  she  said;  "'Toi 
nette  is  not  to  be  wholly  pitied  for  being  'safe  folded'  from 
BO  many  of  the  evils  and  temptations  that  are  in  the  world, 
and  she  has  not  resisted  her  discipline  ;  so  it  has  had,  or 
rather  is  having,  its  full  effect." 

"Something  she  said  to-day,"  continued  Doris,  "sent  me 
off  on  a  sort  of  bypath  of  the  road  her  thought  was  tra\7 el- 
ing  on.  She  was  speaking  of  the  possibility  that  she  might, 
by  a  strenuous  effort,  accomplish  more  than  she  does;  I 
don't  suppose  she  could  find  any  one  to  agree  with  her,  and 
I  sometimes  feel  as  if  Dr.  Svensen  were  almost  cruel  for  in 
sisting  so  upon  her  dressing  and  lying  on  the  lounge,  when 
she  would  be  so  much  more  comfortable  in  bed;  but  of 
course  he  knows  best.  So,  from  thinking  how  hard  it  is  to 
tell  if  one  is  really  doing  one's  utmost,  I  worked  round  to 
wondering  how  far  it  is  right  to  struggle  against  what  seems 
like  an  inevitable  fate ;  it  seems  to  me  so  hard  to  define  the 
boundary  between  resignation  and  laziness,  and  between  res 
olution  and  rebellion." 

"It  is  hard,  sometimes,"  replied  her  mother;  "I  have 
often  found  it  so.  But  about  the  latter,  I  think  we  never 
need  be  afraid  to  persevere,  so  long  as  we  can  honestly  ask 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  285 

God  to  bless  us  in  what  we  are  undertaking,  and  can  end 
our  petition  with  '  Thy  will  be  done/  We  may  wish  very 
much  for  something,  and  yet  have  a  higher  wish  that,  if  it 
is  not  for  the  best  in  every  way,  not  only  for  ourselves  but 
for  others,  our  petition  may  be  refused.  Can  you  see  what 
I  mean  ?  " 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  Doris,  slowly;  "I  can  see — but  I'm 
not  at  all  sure  that  I  could  do  it.  And  about  the  other — 
there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  real  test,  does  there  ?  Oh,  I 
know  why  you  are  smiling,  mamma — you  are  thinking, 
'  There  she  is  trying  to  generalize  and  classify  and  formu 
late,  as  usual ' — now  aren't  you  ?  " 

"Something  of  that  sort,  perhaps.  But  it  is  not  at  all  a 
bad  thing  to  do,  if  only  you  do  not  carry  it  to  excess.  I  do 
not  think  that  you,  personally,  need  ever  be  afraid  that  res 
ignation  will  degenerate  into  laziness,  for  you  are  naturally 
active,  and  a  little  '  fierce';  but  if  you  ever  should  be,  I 
know  of  no  better  cures  than  self-examination  and  prayer. 
The  Holy  Spirit  can  show  us  our  real  selves  as  nothing  else 
can." 

Mr.  Campbell  had  always  seemed  to  like  Hilda  best  of  all 
of  Doris's  schoolmates,  and  now,  although  his  failing  mem 
ory  did  not  retain  the  fact  of  her  engagement  for  any  length 
of  time,  he  listened  with  ever-new  interest  when  it  was 
alluded  to,  and  wished  to  hear  all  about  it,  asking  generally 
the  same  questions.  Once  or  twice  he  had  added,  with  an 
expression  of  perplexity : 

"  I  suppose  it  is  all  right — it  must  be,  or  Hilda  would  not 
have  accepted  him ;  but  I  used  to  think — I  am  almost  sure 
that  there  was  some  one  else  whom  Hilda  used  to  fancy. 
Was  there  not,  Doris  ?  " 

"  There  may  have  been,  papa,  when  she  was  younger," 
Doris  would  answer,  patiently,  and  then  a  few  words  on  an 
other  subject  would  suffice  to  divert  his  attention,  and,  to 


286  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Doris's  great  relief,  Leonard  had  not  happened  to  be  present 
either  time.  As  weeks  and  months  went  by,  he  was  sur 
prised,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  a  little  disappointed,  to  iind 
that  the  self-control  which  he  had  at  first  exercised  was  no 
longer  necessary.  He  could  meet  Hilda  without  excitement, 
and  part  from  her  without  regret.  He  even  wondered  a 
little,  sometimes,  that  he  had  thought  her  so  different  from, 
so  immensely  superior  to,  all  other  women,  and  thought 
that  perhaps  her  affection  for  a  commonplace  man  was 
making  her  commonplace  too.  It  was  not  jealousy  which 
made  him  take  this  view  of  Lieutenant  Jansen.  The  young 
Dane  was  cultivated,  refined,  and  only  a  little  indolent;  but 
life  had  always  been  made  a  very  easy  thing  for  him.  He 
had  attained  most  of  his  wishes  without  having  been  obliged 
to  make  any  special  effort  for  their  attainment ;  never,  until 
he  saw  and  loved  Hilda,  had  he  met  with  any  serious  opposi 
tion.  She  had  at  first  unconditionally  refused  him,  and  this 
refusal,  instead  of  quenching  his  ardor,  had  fanned  it  into 
greater  activity.  Here,  he  said  to  himself,  was  at  last  a  prize 
worth  striving  for,  and  with  dogged  determination,  veiled  by 
perfect  tact,  he  began  to  strive.  Hilda  was  at  first  amused, 
and  more  flattered  than  she  imagined ;  then  she  was  struck 
by  the  contrast  between  Leonard's  silent  resignation  to  the 
probability  of  losing  her  and  Lieutenant  Jansen's  fixed,  and 
apparently  unchangeable,  purpose  to  win  her.  She  was  at 
last  induced  to  modify  her  refusal  into  a  sort  of  probation ; 
what  followed  this  concession  has  already  been  told.  She 
seemed  happy  enough  now,  in  the  calm  and  tranquil  manner 
habitual  to  her.  Her  betrothed  was  both  fond  and  proud  of 
her,  and  would  be  prouder  still  when  she  shone  in  public  as 
she  meant  to  shine.  She  had  chosen  with  wide-open  eyes, 
and  the  curious  sort  of  severity  which  she  had  always  exer 
cised  toward  herself  would  keep  her  from  looking  backward 
or  repining.  Indeed,  so  thoroughly  was  she  living  the  part 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  287 

she  had  chosen,  that  Doris  was  often  tempted  to  believe  that 
the  little  scene  in  which  Leonard's  portrait  had  figured  must 
have  existed  solely  in  her  own  imagination.  In  spite  of  all 
the  indignant  feeling  which  had  afc  one  time  threatened  to 
replace  and  uproot  her  affection  for  Hilda,  she  had  been 
gradually  won  back  by  the  latters  thoughtful  kindness, 
which  it  seemed  impossible  to  meet  with  resentment,  or  even 
resistance.  Hilda  had  never  been  so  demonstrative  in  her 
affection  as  she  was  now,  and  she  had  patiently  borne  with 
the  fitfulness  which,  for  .awhile,  had  characterized  Doris's 
behavior  to  her,  much  as  one  bears  with  the  humors  of  a 
little  child  or  an  invalid.  To  a  nature  like  Doris's  it  was 
impossible,  under  these  circumstances,  to  keep  from  being 
melted,  and,  long  before  Hilda's  marriage  occurred,  they  were 
nearly  on  their  old  footing  again,  with  the  difference  of  an 
increased  tenderness  and  demonstrativeness  on  Hilda's  part. 
Doris  had  a  nervous  apprehension  that  Hilda  would  ask  her 
to  be  one  of  the  bridesmaids;  but  in  this  she  misjudged  her 
friend.  Hilda  had  far  too  much  tact  to  commit  such  an 
awkwardness  as  this,  and  though  it  was  a  real  grief  to  her 
to  substitute  another  name  for  Doris's,  she  did  not  dream  of 
asking  Doris  to  serve  in  this  capacity. 

Although,  in  many  ways,  time  seemed  to  drag  just  now, 
yet  the  year  of  Hilda's  engagement  was  over  too  quickly  for 
every  one  but  Lieutenant  Jansen.  Doris  found  that  Leonard 
was  quite  ready  to  accompany  her  to  the  wedding,  and  that 
there  was  no  danger  that  his  appearance  would  in  the  least 
mar  the  festivities.  The  ceremony  was  to  be  performed  in 
the  Danish  Lutheran  church,  to  which  both  bride  and  groom 
belonged,  and  the  splendor  of  the  pageant  was  all  the  more 
striking  by  contrast  with  the  rigid  plainness  of  the  little 
stone  church,  the  only  decorations  of  which  were — white 
wash  and  green  Venetian  shutters ! — or  rather,  these  were 
the  only  permanent  ones.  On  the  morning  of  the  wedding, 


288  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Hilda's  schoolmates  made  it  beautiful  with  palm-branches 
and  flowers,  so  that  when  the  stately  young  bride  went  up 
the  aisle  in  her  shimmering  satin  and  creamy  lace,  she 
seemed  to  be  entering  a  bower.  An  uncle,  her  father's 
younger  brother,  whose  home  was  in  one  of  the  neighboring 
islands,  was  to  "give  away  the  bride,"  so  it  was  upon  his 
arm  that  she  leaned;  and,  as  he  was  tall  and  commanding- 
looking,  nothing  marred  the  effect  of  the  procession.  Lieu 
tenant  Jansen  followed  with  Hilda's  mother,  a  beautiful  and 
stately  woman  of  fifty;  and  the  six  bridesmaids,  who  had 
preceded  them,  deployed  to  right  and  left  as  they  reached 
the  open  space  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  so  leaving  room  in  the 
center  for  the  four  principal  actors,  as  to  Doris  they  seemed 
to  be.  The  service  was  solemn  and  impressive,  and  although 
Hilda  grew  very  pale  as  it  proceeded,  she  answered  the  good 
old  minister's  questions  firmly  and  audibly,  and  without  the 
least  hesitation  ;  but  Doris  suddenly  remembered  a  remark 
she  had  once  heard  about  the  wedding-service :  "  If  the 
bride  and  groom  were  required  'to  say  '  I  do '  instead  of  '  I 
will'  to  the  question  about  loving  and  cherishing,  there 
would  be  fewer  marriages  or  more  willfully  perjured  people; 
but  '  I  will '  is  indefinite  as  to  time." 

Nobody  could  in  the  least  doubt  the  groom's  sentiments 
and  intentions.  His  cheerful  voice  announced  them  with  a 
ringing  genuineness  which  did  him  credit,  and  evidently 
pleased  and  sustained  his  pale  bride.  There  were  no  con 
gratulations  in  the  church,  save  the  fatherly  kiss  and  warm 
clasp  of  the  hand  which  the  good  old  clergyman  bestowed 
upon  bride  and  groom  before  they  turned  away.  Mrs. 
Ufling  took  her  brother-in-law's  arm  and  fell  behind  the 
bride  and  groom,  the  bridesmaids  following  now  instead  of 
leading.  Jane  Barrett  and  Christine  Larsen  were  the  only  ones 
selected  from  among  her  schoolmates;  the  other  four  were 
cousins,  two  of  them  daughters  of  the  uncle  who  had  played 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  289 

the  part  of  father,  and  the  other  two  daughters  of  a  sister  of 
her  mother,  who  lived  on  the  "north  side"  of  the  Island. 
They  were  all,  excepting  Christine,  tall,  fine-looking  girls, 
but  Hilda  shone  supremely  beautiful  among  them,  though 
the  schoolmates  whispered  to  each  other  that  she  looked 
more  than  ever  like  the  "ice-maiden." 

The  newly-married  pair  had  arranged  to  have  their  wed 
ding  on  the  sailing-day  of  one  of  the  English  vessels,  and 
were  to  embark  that  same  afternoon  upon  an  extensive 
wedding-journey.  Hilda  was  to  see  England  and  the  Conti 
nent  before  settling  permanently  in  her  far  northern  home, 
and  her  bridesmaids  laughingly  declared  that  they  coveted 
the  first  part  of  the  programme  far  more  than  the  second — 
Denmark  was  so  very,  very  far  away! 

"  But  when  it  is  my  Hilda's  home,  then  it  will  be  Santa 
Cruz  that  will  be  so  very,  very  far  away,"  said  the  Lieu 
tenant,  gayly,  and  quite  oblivious  of  the  shadow  which  fell 
upon  his  Hilda's  face  at  the  words.  Doris  saw  it,  and  won 
dered  at  the  courage  which  sustained  Hilda  to  the  very  last. 
She  still  grew  paler,  until  she  was  a  snow-maiden  rather 
than  an  ice-maiden,  but  she  talked  and  smiled,  and,  some 
what  to  the  surprise  of  all  of  them,  exchanged  promises 
to  write  with  several  of  her  schoolmates,  Jane  among  the 
number. 

"  But  you  will  have  such  a  magnificent  amount  of  mate 
rial  for  letters,"  said  Jane;  "you  need  only  sit  down  and 
dash  off  a  description  of  a  city,  or  a  palace,  or  a  ruin,  which 
ever  you  have  happened  to  see  last,  while  we  shall  have 
nothing  to  tell,  but  where  we  walked  or  drove  the  evening 
before!" 

"  You  can  tell  me  nothing  too  trifling  to  be  of  interest  to 
me,"  replied  Hilda,  smiling  faintly;  "and  you  must  not  wait 
for  extraordinary  events — it  is  of  your  every-day  life  that  I 
shall  like  to  hear." 
13 


290  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

She  managed  to  call  Doris  aside  for  a  moment,  just  before 
she  left  the  room  to  change  her  dress. 

"  You  will  write  to  me  ?  "  she  said  briefly,  holding  Doris's 
hands  in  a  firm  clasp,  as  she  spoke. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Doris,  hurriedly;  "I  shouldn't 
think — oh,  Hilda !  do  you  really  wish  me  to  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  ask  it,  if  I  did  not  ?  But  do  as 
you  please,  Doris;  I  do  not  urge  it,  and  it  will  give  me  no 
pleasure,  if  you  do  it  against  your  will." 

"I  did  not  mean  that,"  said  Doris,  with  increasing  con 
fusion,  "you  know  I  didn't!  And  of  course  I  will  write, 
if  you  really  want  me  to — you  always  make  me  do  as  you 
wish,  you  know,"  she  added,  between  laughing  and  crying. 

"  Then  come  up  with  me  now,  and  help  me  to  make  ready 
for  that  terrible  voyage.  Just  think — I  have  never  sailed 
anywhere  but  in  the  harbor — and  a  voyage  to  England,  and 
then  across  that  hideous  Channel,  and  then  to  Denmark — 
there  will  be  nothing  left  of  me  at  all ! " 

"Oh,  yes,  there  will  be  !"  said  Doris,  trying  to  speak  as 
lightly  as  Hilda  did,  although  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
lump  in  her  throat  grew  larger  every  minute.  "No  amount 
of  sea-sickness  will  really  break  your  indomitable  will,  and 
you  will  arise  from  your  ashes  more  imperious  than  ever,  for 
having  been  put  down  for  a  brief  season  ! " 

The  good-byes  were  said  hurriedly,  at  the  last,  and  Hilda 
shed  no  tears.  Mrs.  Ufling  and  her  brother-in-law  alone,  of 
all  the  party,  accompanied  the  travelers  to  the  ship;  the 
guests,  excepting  those  who  were  to  remain  all  night,  dis 
persed  soon  after  Hilda  left  the  room,  and  Doris  and  Leon 
ard  were  on  their  way  home  before  the  short-lived  twilight 
fell.  Their  talk,  by  the  way,  set  Doris's  mind  completely 
and  permanently  at  rest  concerning  Leonard;  the  cure  was 
evidently  effectual,  and  again  Dora  took  herself  to  task  for 
her  whimsical  regret  that  it  should  be  so ! 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A  FTER  the  excitement  attendant  upon  Hilda's  marriage 
-£A_  died  away,  it  seemed  to  Doris  that  the  days  grew  to 
be  so  exactly  alike,  that  it  was  difficult  to  keep  count  of 
them;  a  week  seemed  like  a  month,  in  passing,  and  a  month 
like  a  week,  in  looking  back.  Even  Sunday  made  but  a  slight 
mark  upon  the  calendar,  for  generally,  now,  Doris  did  not 
feel  that  she  could  be  spared  for  even  one  service  during  the 
day,  and  although  her  father  always  listened,  with  pleased 
attention,  while  she  read  and  sang  to  her  mother,  the  read 
ing  was  a  daily  occurrence,  and  so  failed  to  serve  as  a  land 
mark.  Mr.  Campbell's  mind  wandered,  now,  so  much,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  hold  anything  like  a  rational  conversa 
tion  with  him,  and  reading  aloud,  from  an  ordinary  book  or 
paper,  failed  to  interest  him  for  any  length  of  time;  but 
when  the  Bible  was  read,  it  seemed  to  touch  a  chord  silent 
to  all  else,  and  this  was  an  inexpressible  comfort  to  his  wife 
and  daughter. 

It  always  seemed  to  soothe  and  comfort  him  when  either 
of  them  sang,  and  more  especially  when  they  sang  hymns. 
He  was  suffering  no  pain  now,  Dr.  Svensen  said,  but  there 
were  times  when  his  mental  distress  was  far  more  painful  to 
witness  than  physical  would  have  been  ;  he  had  grown  more 
tranquil  and  happy  as  he  greAV  weaker,  and  was  touchingly 
grateful  for  and  pleased  with  all  that  was  done  for  him, 
but  once  in  awhile  there  seemed  to  be  a  struggle  in  his 
clouded  brain  for  its  lost  coherence  and  ascendency,  followed 
by  a  despairing  sense  of  his  helplessness.  At  such  times,  it 
was  very  difficult  to  restore  him  to  his  ordinary  cheerful 


292  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

frame  of  mind,  and  the  after  effect  upon  her  mother  was  such, 
that  Doris  doubly  dreaded  them.  She  herself  was  not  con 
scious  of  the  extent  to  which  the  long  strain  had  worn  upon 
her,  and  often  reproached  herself  for  short-comings  which 
were  entirely  caused  by  increasing  cares  and  duties,  and  de 
creasing  strength. 

Mrs.  Campbell  watched,  with  silent  distress,  Doris's  heroic 
efforts  to  be  cheerful  and  to  appear  unencumbered  and  light- 
hearted,  and  did  everything  in  her  power  to  ease  the  young 
shoulders  of  their  heavy  burden;  more  than  this,  she  re 
frained  from  adding  a  feather's  weight  to  it  by  useless  and 
aimless  remonstrances  and  bewailings;  she  felt  keenly  her 
inability  to  be  actively  useful,  but  she  little  knew  how  help 
ful  were  her  true  and  ever-ready  sympathy,  her  intelligent 
interest,  and  the  few  words  of  loving  praise  and  appreciation 
which  always  seemed  to  Doris  to  come  when  the  way  looked 
especially  hard  or  long. 

Leonard,  of  course,  was  a  tower  of  strength,  both  for  his 
aunt  and  Doris,  but  even  he  was  not  so  sanguine  as  he  had 
been  at  first,  and  was  growing  less  so  every  day.  For  it  was 
becoming  more  and  more  evident  to  him,  daily,  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  the  plantation  to  recover  itself  without  an 
expenditure  of  more  money  than  they  had  at  their  command, 
even  should  he  give  up  the  whole  of  his  patrimony ;  and  he 
did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that,  were  every  demand  met,  and 
everything  about  the  place  restored  to  order  and  complete 
ness,  the  future  of  the  Island  would  be  such  as  to  return  the 
outlay,  much  less  a  profit  011  it.  Mr.  Barrett  and  one  or  two 
of  his  friends  were  still  hopeful,  and  the  former  had  found 
no  difficulty  in  borrowing  enough  money  to  keep  on,  at  least 
for  the  present;  but  in  this,  Leonard  was  unwilling  to  imitate 
him,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  was  even  more  so,  for  she  had  a 
horror  of  running  in  debt. 

Leonard  had  written  to  Mr.  Santon,  inquiring  about  the 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  293 

possibility  of  either  selling  the  plantation  to  some  one  in  the 
United  Sta/tes,  or  exchanging  it  for  land  there,  and  had  re 
ceived  a  reply,  holding  out  some  encouragement,  and  prom 
ising  to  do  all  that  lay  withiii  the  writer's  power  to  further 
the  object. 

He  had  done  this  with  his  aunt's  full  sanction,  for  she 
could  not  help  feeling  apprehensive  about  the  future  support 
of  her  daughters;  and  she  had,  besides,  a  faint  hope  that 
such  a  total  change  of  scene  as  the  removal  would  involve 
might  awaken  Mr.  Campbell's  mind,  and  also  do  much  for 
his  physical  health.  Many  times,  when  she  had  attempted 
to  talk  with^  him  about  it,  she  had  been  encouraged  by  a  mo 
mentary  attention  and  interest,  but  it  was  never  more  than 
momentary  now,  and  the  attempts  always  ended  in  disap 
pointment. 

A  curious  effect,  however,  of  this  frequent  recurrence  to 
the  subject  was  that  after  awhile  the  idea  that  he  was  going 
somewhere  seemed  to  take  root,  and  he  would  frequently 
allude  to  it,  sometimes  with  evident  happiness  and  satisfac 
tion,  and  at  others  with  a  distressed  groping  for  the  rest  of 
the  plan.  Occasionally  he  would  fancy  that  he  was  to  go 
alone,  and  he  would  beg  his  wife  and  daughters  to  go  with 
him,  quite  satisfied,  for  the  time,  when  they  assured  him 
that  they  would.  It  was  curious,  and  touching  as  well,  to 
see  his  delight  in  little  Theo's  society,  and  the  unfailing 
sweetness  and  tact  which  she  manifested  toward  him.  She 
came  to  him  with  all  her  small  plans  and  pleasures,  drew 
him  with  her  about  the  place  to  all  her  favorite  haunts,  and 
never  seemed  to  weary  of  repeating  anything  that  appeared 
to  give  him  the  smallest  pleasure.  She  evidently  had  some 
theory  about  him  which  entirely  satisfied  her,  but  she  was 
shy  about  expressing  some  of  her  ideas,  and  neither  Mrs. 
Campbell  nor  Doris  was  put  in  possession  of  this  one  for 
some  time.  She  had  been  sitting  quiet  one  day  for  ten  or 


294  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

fifteen  minutes,  with  the  meditative  look  upon  her  little 
face  which  always  greatly  entertained  Doris.  Her  mother 
was  writing  and  Doris  was  copying  some  memoranda  into 
the  sort  of  day-book  which  she  and  Leonard  conjointly  kept, 
when  Theo  suddenly  broke  the  silence  with — 

"But  I  do  wish  he'd  grow  little  faster.  He  would  be 
much  happier  himself,  and  we  could  have  ever  so  much  bet 
ter  times." 

"  Oh,  you  extraordinary  kitten ! "  said  Doris,  looking  up 
from  her  book  with  a  laughing  face;  "  what  do  you  mean 
by  all  that  fairy-story  talk,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

' '  I  didn't  know  I  was  saying  it  out  loud,"  replied  the  child, 
coloring  with  confusion;  "I  thought  I  only  said  it  to  my 
self.  If  you  didn't  laugh  at  me  so,  sister,  I  would  often  tell 
you  things — but  you  do,  you  know  ! " 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  too  bad  of  me/*'  apologized  Doris,  com 
posing  her  face  to  a  look  of  proper  gravity;  "but  I  really 
will  not  laugh  this  time,  if  you'll  only  tell  me  the  rest  of 
what  you  were  saying  just  now." 

"You're  quite,  quite  sure?"  and  Theo  came  close  to 
Doris,  resting  her  folded  arms  upon  her  older  sister's  knees, 
and  gazing  earnestly  into  her  face. 

"  Quite,  quite  sure — just  see  how  serious  I  am  looking, 
before  you  have  told  me  a  thing  about  it! " 

"Yes,  you  are,"  said  Theo,  approvingly;  "I'd  often — or 
sometimes — tell  you  things,  if  you'd  always  look  like  that! 
It  was  about  papa.  You  see,  our  Heavenly  Father  is  letting 
him  grow  back  into  a  dear  little  baby  again,  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  his  body  doesn't  grow  little  fast  enough  for  him — it 
must  be  so  tiresome,  to  really  be  a  little  boy,  and  have  to 
look  like  a  big  man.  I  understand  all  about  it,  of  course, 
but  a  great  many  people  don't,  and  they  only  worry  him." 

Doris  held  her  little  sister  close,  and  kissed  her  fervently, 
saying : 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  295 

"It  doesn't  matter  about  other  people,  darling,  if  we  un 
derstand  ;  and  we  must  make  dear  papa  so  happy  that  he 
will  not  care  what  other  people  think  or  say,  or  that  he  can't 
be  little  like  you.  You  know  you  are  growing  larger  all  the 
time,  so  if  he  were  to  grow  smaller,  you  would  not  be  alike 
long;  while  now,  as  soon  as  you  grow  tall,  you  will  be  alike 
in  that,  and  stay  so." 

"To  be  sure!"  said  Theo,  brightening;  "how  stupid  I 
was  not  to  think  about  that.  I'm  very  glad  I  told  you  this 
time." 

"  Wasn't  it  a  beautiful  thought,  mamma  ? "  said  Doris, 
after  the  child  had  left  the  room;  "I  wish  every  one  meant 
it  in  that  way,  when  they  say  people  are  '  childish.' ' 

"  Ah,  if  he  were  only  always  happy,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell, 
sadly,  "  we  could  be  almost  reconciled  to  the  forgetfulness  ; 
but  it  is  so  bitterly  hard  to  be  unable  to  comfort  him." 

Doris  had  no  reply  for  this  but  most  loving  caresses.  But 
a  still  more  tender  feeling  for  her  father  resulted  from  little 
Theo's  quaint  confidence  and  the  train  of  thought  evoked 
by  it. 

An  unusually  warm  and  dry  summer,  followed  by  exces 
sively  high  winds,  affected  Mr.  Campbell's  failing  health 
most  unfavorably,  and  he  grew  weaker  rapidly,  until  he  was 
entirely  confined  to  his  bed  ;  and  Dr.  Svensen  said  that,  un 
less  some  very  unlooked-for  and  improbable  change  for  the 
better  should  occur  soon,  he  could  not  live  many  days. 
With  all  that  is  said  of  the  gradual  preparation  which  a  long 
illness  makes,  death  is,  and  always  will  be,  a  surprise.  The 
hope  of  even  a  partial  recovery  had  now  to  be  abandoned, 
and  the  separation  from  one  who  was  a  part  of  their  daily 
lives  faced.  A  great  fear  seized  Doris,  that  the  calmness 
with  which  her  mother  accepted  the  decree  was  owing  to  a 
conviction  that  the  separation  from  her  husband  would  be 
very  short ;  and  this  was  partly  true,  but  not  wholly.  Long 


296  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

submission  to  chastening  was  yielding,  in  Mrs.  Campbell's 
heart,  "  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness  "  in  a  way  which 
Doris  could  not  as  yet  comprehend. 

They  all  hoped  silently  and  prayed  fervently  that  the  en 
feebled  mind  might  regain  its  power  at  the  last,  and  leave 
them  a  comforting  memory ;  and  this  hope  was  fulfilled.  For 
a  few  hours  before  the  quiet  sleep  which  ushered  in  death, 
Mr.  Campbell  was  restored  to  them  as  he  had  been  before  his 
illness,  which  seemed  to  have  left  scarcely  a  recollection  be 
hind  it.  He  felt  no  fear  of  death,  and  his  tender  regret  at 
leaving  those  so  dear  to  him  was  almost  conque'red  by  a  firm 
faith  that  they  should  meet  again  in  that  home  whose  inhab 
itants  "  go  no  more  out  forever."  Leonard's  presence  seemed 
greatly  to  comfort  him,  and  the  few  words  he  said  about  this 
made  his  nephew  feel  more  than  ever  that  Mrs.  Campbell 
and  her  daughters  were  a  sacred  trust,  to  be  guarded  as  he 
would  have  guarded  his  own  mother  and  sister,  had  they 
lived. 

The  funeral  was  very  largely  attended,  for  Mr.  Campbell 
had  had  many  warm  personal  friends,  beside  the  business 
acquaintances,  who  had  all  respected  his  integrity  of  char 
acter.  And  after  it  was  over  came  the  dreary  blank  which 
always  follows  a  death  that  has  been  preceded  by  a  long  ill 
ness — when  it  seemed  as  if  the  object  of  all  their  lives  had 
been  suddenly  taken  away.  Doris,  especially,  drooped  under 
this  feeling,  and  her  mother  was  almost  glad  of  the  necessity 
which,  now  that  she  had  entered  upon  it,  compelled  her  to 
keep  on  at  her  new  occupation. 

Jane  came  expressly  to  offer  to  undertake  a  double  share 
of  the  work  for  a  week  or  two,  but  to  this  very  kind  propo 
sal  Doris  would  not  listen  for  a  moment. 

"It  is  just  like  you,  Jeanie,"  she  said,  affectionately,  when 
Jane  insisted  that  she  could  "easily  do  it.'*  "But  I  am 
not  going  to  let  you  disable  yourself  for  me,  my  dear,  and 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  297 

you  must  not  be  troubled  about  it,  for  it  really  will  be  better 
for  me  to  have  something  to  do  right  away.  I  have  not 
seemed  to  be  able  to  settle  to  anything  yet,  and  I  am  really 
glad  of  this  necessity,  so  you  must  not  worry  about  me." 

Jane  was  disappointed,  for  she  had  made  the  offer  in  thor 
oughly  good  faith ;  but  she  had  the  common  sense  to  see 
that  Doris  was  right,  and  to  urge  the  matter  no  farther. 

So  Doris  "  took  up  the  burden  of  life  again,"  feeling  as  if 
youth  were  over  now,  and  thankful  for  the  occupation  which 
kept  her  from  thinking  too  much.  Both  she  and  Jane 
wished  very  much  that  they  could  be  together,  for  they  felt 
sure  they  could  thus  accomplish  their  work  more  quickly 
and  easily.  But  this  did  not  seem  possible  just  now ;  it  was 
not  always  easy  for  either  of  them  to  obtain  a  horse,  and,  if 
it  had  been,  too  much  time  would  be  wasted  in  daily  going 
and  coming,  and  they  could  think  of  no  equidistant  place 
where  they  could  carry  on  their  work.  Beside  the  standing 
order  from  the  New  York  grocer,  they  were  beginning  to 
receive  an  encouraging  number  of  private  orders^and  for 
these,  upon  consultation  with  Leonard,  they  decided  to 
charge  slightly  higher  rates.  They  were  able  now  to  buy 
both  the  sugar  and  glasses  in  quantities  which  materially 
reduced  the  cost,  and  they  were  debating  the  wisdom  of  em 
ploying  more  help,  and  accepting  all  orders.  Doris  was 
inclined  to  the  opinion  that  it  would  be  wiser  to  accept  only 
such  orders  as  they  could  fill  with  their  present  facilities  ; 
her  bright  and  sanguine  spirit  had  been  very  much  subdued 
by  her  father's  death,  and  she  dreaded  anything  that  seemed 
like  a  great  undertaking.  But  Jane  was  very  hopeful,  and 
anxious  to  let  no  opportunity  slip;  she  had  set  her  heart 
upon  earning  enough,  not  only  to  support  herself,  but  to 
save  something,  month  by  month,  until  she  had  enough  to 
go  either  to  England  or  America,  to  complete  her  art  educa 
tion. 


298  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  It  is  quite  possible,"  she  said  to  Doris,  when  she  had 
mentioned  her  aspiration,  "  that  I  shall  be  a  middle-aged 
woman  by  the  time  I  have  the  money,  but  I  mean  to  try  for 
it  all  the  same.  I  am  sure  I  could  paint  respectably,  and  sell 
some  of  my  paintings,  if  I  could  only  manage  to  be  properly 
instructed  ;  and  I  shall  live  like  a  miser  till  I  succeed  in  my 
object,  or  prove  that  success  is  out  of  the  question.  I  don't 
feel  like  trying  to  sell  any  more  works  of  art  until  I  can  do 
better  work.  The  remarkably  frank  letter  that  New  York 
picture-dealer  wrote  me  opened  my  eyes  ;  and  if  my  work  is 
'crude,'  and  '  far  better  in  design  than  in  execution,'  I  pre 
fer  not  to  be  known  by  it — I  had  much  better  make  good 
jelly  all  my  days  than  paint  poor  pictures." 

"  That  sounds  exactly  like  Miss  Anna,"  said  Doris,  smiling 
at  Jane's  energy.  "  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  must  write  and 
tell  her  how  often  I  see  fragments  of  her  mind  and  character 
reflected  in  her  ex-scholars  ;  it  ought  to  please  her  to  know 
how  her  influence  continues  to  work." 

"It  would,  no  doubt,"  replied  Jane;  "and  yet  I  think 
that,  if  she  were  never  allowed  to  see  a  single  result  of  her 
work,  she  would  keep  on  working  all  the  same,  and  take  a 
real  pleasure  in  it.  You  are  quite  right  about  the  "frag 
ments  ' ;  it  would  take  six  or  seven  of  us  to  make  one  such 
woman  as  she  is,  and  I'm  afraid  one  or  two  qualities  would 
be  lacking,  even  then!" 

"Now  you  know  I  did  not  mean  that;  but  I  am  quite 
willing  to  subscribe  to  it,  since  you  have  taken  the  responsi 
bility  of  saying  it.  And  there's  no  telling;  perhaps,  when 
some  of  us  are  as  old  as  Miss  Anna  is,  we  shall  be  more  than 
fragments.  How  I  wish  that  she  could  have  found  some 
thing  to  do  that  would  have  kept  her  here — she  is  so 
inspiring." 

"  Yes,  it  would  have  been  delightful  for  all  of  us  ;  but  I 
think  she  must  feel  a  little  stifled  in  a  place  like  this ;  she 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  299 

must  be  much  more  in  her  element,  among  pushing,  enter 
prising,  business-like  people,  Doris!"  said  Jane,  with  sud 
den  fervor.  "  I  wish  we  were  there  now !  Don't  you  ?  " 

"I  am  not  sure,"  said  Doris,  doubtfully.  "I  think  I 
should  be  a  little  afraid.  At  any  rate,  I  would  rather  prac 
tice  enterprise  quietly  here,  for  awhile,  before  going  to  a 
place  where  everybody  is  enterprising,  not  only  by  education, 
but  by  nature." 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  argued  Jane,  "  that  the  very  atmos 
phere,  there,  would  be  almost  enough  to  bring  one  up  to  the 
general  level  ?  There  must  be  so  many  worth-while  people 
scattered  all  about,  and  their  minds  would  sharpen  ours  to 
match  them.  Oh,  how  I  wish  that  papa  could  sell  the  place, 
and  begin  all  over  again,  there." 

"That  is  just  it,"  said  Doris,  sadly;  "even  Archimedes 
couldn't  move  the  world,  without  a  place  upon  which  to  rest 
his  lever." 

Mr.  Barrett,  in  common  with  all  the  planters  who  were 
not  prospering,  was  quite  willing  to  sell  his  estate,  if  he 
could  obtain  anything  like  a  reasonable  price  for  it ;  but  real 
estate  was  a  drug  in  the  market  just  now,  owing,  partly,  to 
the  great  and  increasing  difficulty  of  obtaining  servants  and 
laborers  of  the  right  sort.  Leonard  lost  patience  twenty 
times  a  day  over  the  "fecklessness"  of  most  of  the  negroes 
in  his  employ  ;  and  even  the  house-servants  were  no  longer 
what  they  used  to  be.  It  was  this  fact  which  made  Doris 
hesitate  when  Jane  proposed  enlarging  their  business.  Even 
if  they  could  find  a  convenient  and  suitable  place  for  carry 
ing  it  on,  it  was  somewhat  doubtful  if  they  could  procure 
the  right  sort  of  assistance.  In  former  times,  when  the  two 
girls  were  schoolmates,  Doris  had  almost  always  been  fore 
most  in  any  new  enterprise,  and  Jane  had  generally  preferred 
to  wait,  before  taking  up  with  fresh  plans  or  ideas,  until,  as 
she  said,  she  "saw  hcfw  they  worked."  But  now  they 


300  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

seemed  in  a  measure  to  have  exchanged  characters.  Trouble 
had  subdued  and  intimidated  Doris,  for  the  time  being ;  if 
it  had  been  only  money-trouble,  she  would  have  felt  quite 
able  to  cope  with  it,  but  the  nature  of  her  father's  illness, 
and  its  end  in  death,  instead  of  the  at  least  partial  recovery 
for  which  she  had  hoped  against  hope,  had  weighted 
her  spirit  too  heavily  for  an  immediate  reaction  and  re 
covery. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  need  for  action  which  had  come 
into  Jane's  life  had  concentrated  her  abilities,  and  given  her 
the  strong  motive  which  had  before  been  wanting.  Doris 
was  often  amused  at  the  plans  and  projects  devised  by  Jane's 
active  brain,  and  Jane  complained  that  Doris  always  pounced 
upon  the  "thin  places"  in  them,  and  managed  to  show  that 
they  were  impracticable.  Generally  speaking,  the  thinnest 
of  the  thin  places  was  a  want  of  capital — as,  for  instance, 
when  Jane  proposed  to  open  an  "  International  Intelligence 
Office,"  and  import  negroes  from  Africa,  and  coolies  from 
China.  Another  of  her  brilliant  ideas  was  to  establish  an 
agent  in  New  York,  and  pay  him  a  moderate  salary  to  sell 
their  jellies  and  preserves.  There  was  no  doubt  that,  after 
the  first  outlay,  this  arrangement  would  bring  them  in 
larger  returns  than  they  received  under  the  present  one,  but 
there  was  that  vexatious  first  outlay  again !  Meantime,  both  of 
the  girls  managed  to  put  by  something  out  of  every  payment 
they  received,  and  Jane  declared  that,  if  Doris  kept  on  veto 
ing  all  her  proposals  for  a  year  or  two  longer,  they  would 
have  enough  money  saved  for  any  one  of  them. 

'Jane  did  very  little  painting  in  these  days,  partly  because 
she  had  become  dissatisfied  with  her  work,  and  convinced 
that  she  was  in  need  of  much  more  instruction,  and  partly 
because,  while  she  was  sure  of  selling  her  jelly,  she  was  by 
no  means  so  sure  in  regard  to  her  drawings  and  paintings. 
The  project  of  which  she  now  talked  most,  was  that  of  going 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  301 

to  America,  so  soon  as  they  had  enough  money  laid  by  to 
pay  their  passage  ;  and  when  Doris  suggested  that  it  might 
be  as  well  to  wait  until  they  had  enough  also  to  pay  their 
board  for  two  or  three  weeks,  in  case  they  should  not  at 
once  find  something  to  do,  Jane  assured  her  that  one  week's 
board  would  be  amply  sufficient ! 

"But,  you  see,"  Doris  said,  "the  trouble  usually  is,  that 
people  will  not  take  any  employment  but  just  some  one  thing 
that  they  think  they  do  best,  when  in  reality  there  are  numbers 
of  things  which  women  can  do.  Now,  I  know  I  have  sense 
enough  to  learn  to  do  any  sort  of  factory-work,  or  I  could 
begin  at  low  wages  with  a  confectioner  or  fancy  cake-baker, 
and  very  soon  learn  the  business ;  or  I  could  be  cook  to  a  small 
family,  or  child's  nurse.  You  needn't  turn  up  your  proud 
little  nose,  Miss — of  course  T  shouldn't  choose  any  of  these 
interesting  avocations  for  a  permanency,  but  I  think  I  have 
learned  that  the  mistake  that  most  women,  and  some  men, 
make,  in  shaping  their  lives,  is  this  waiting  in  idleness.  It 
isn't  the  waiting  that  is  the  trouble,  it's  the  idleness.  One 
could  certainly,  always,  find  some  kind  of  work." 

"  But,  Doris,"  said  Jeanie,  "  don't  you  think  that  some 
times  people  make  it  almost  impossible  that  they  should 
succeed  at  their  real  calling,  by  frittering  themselves  away 
on  work  of  a  lower  order  ?  " 

"  Not  the  worth-while  ones.  Of  the  two  classes,  I  should 
say  the  idlers  were  the  ones  who  made  success  almost  impos 
sible  for  themselves.  A  habit  of  working,  and  sticking  at  it, 
is  half  the  battle  in  any  trade,  calling,  or  profession,  and  can 
be  turned  into  another  channel  at  short  notice,  by  an  intelli 
gent  person,  and  a  habit  of  idleness  is  a  mill-stone  about  the 
neck  of  the  most  brilliant  and  gifted  person  imaginable. 
One  can  do  a  good  deal  of  practising  and  training,  too,  for 
one's  chosen  calling,  even  when  most  of  one's  time  is  occu 
pied  with  something  else  ;  hand-work  leaves  the  mind  free, 


302  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

although  I  sometimes  wish  it  did  not,"  said  Doris,  "and 
that  it  were  completely  absorbing,  deadening  one's  senses  to 
everything  else.  I  am  so  tired  of  thinking  around  the 
same  disheartening  circle,  day  after  day,  without  the  least 
result." 

"But  there  will  be  a  result!"  said  Jane,  resolutely. 
"  There  is  a  hole  in  the  circle  somewhere,  and  we  shall  find 
it,  one  of  these  days.  I  have  heard  one  or  two  encouraging 
rumors,  lately,  about  some  American  speculators  who  are 
said  to  be  on  the  Island  buying  up  real  estate.  If  the  plan 
tations  could  only  be  sold  for  decent  prices,  that  would  give 
us  all  the  money  we  need  to  take  us  to  America,  and  give  us 
some  choice  as  to  what  we  will  do  there.  But  I  mean  to 
keep  on  working  and  saving,  just  the  same,  and  if  no  other 
way  opens,  I  shall  have  enough,  in  time,  at  least  to  pay  my 
passage." 

"  But  think  how  old  you  will  be  !  "  said  Doris,  smiling  ; 
"  quite  too  old  to  set  forth  upon  a  new  enterprise  in  a  new 
country !  " 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  dear,"  replied  Jane.  "  I  am  not  quite 
twenty,  now;  and  even  at  the  present  rate  of  procedure,  I 
shall  have  the  money  before  I  am  twenty-five,  and  I  shall 
probably  have  more  sense  and  ability  then  than  I  have  now." 

<e  Appalling  thought !  You  overwhelm  me,  now,  and 
make  me  feel  very  ineffective.  I  shall  endeavor  to  keep  out 
of  your  way  when  you  are  twenty-five." 

"  It  will  be  useless.  I  shall  follow  you  up,  wherever  you 
may  be,  if  only  to  make  you  acknowledge  that  I  am  right." 

Shortly  after  this  talk,  "  the  firm  "  received  a  letter  from 
another  New  York  grocer,  asking  if  they  could  furnish  him 
with  the  same  amount  of  jelly  and  preserved  fruits  that  they 
sent  to  Mr.  Turner,  their  first  patron,  every  month.  Again 
there  was  a  discussion  as  to  ways  and  means.  Doris  was 
free,  now,  to  be  absent  from  home  at  least  a  part  of  every 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  303 

day,  and  Jane  could  command  most  of  her  own  time. 
Hagar  and  Pareen  were  becoming  more  and  more  expert 
and  trustworthy,  and  the  chief,  almost  the  only  difficulty  in 
the  way  of  launching  out  upon  a  wider  enterprise,  was  that 
of  finding  a  suitable  place  for  the  conduct  of  their  manufac 
tures. 

This  difficulty  was  promptly  obviated  by  a  call  from 
Christine  Larsen,  who  came  to  offer  them  the  free  use  of 
the  old  sugar-house.  She  had  heard  of  their  opportunity 
and  the  attendant  difficulty  from  Antoinette,  and  hastened 
to  remove  the  latter.  The  building  was  still  in  sufficiently 
good  repair  to  answer  their  purpose,  and  was  a  little  more 
conveniently  situated  for  Doris  than  for  Jane,  which,  Chris 
tine  said,  was,  under  the  circumstances,  "just  right."  She 
would  not  listen  to  a  word  about  any  payment  of  rent,  insist 
ing  that  no  use  was  made  of  the  place,  and  that  if  they 
chose  to  let  Cudjoe  make  the  few  necessary  repairs  and 
arrangements  before  they  began,  that  would  be  ample  pay 
ment  ;  so,  after  consulting  their  families,  and  obtaining  a 
somewhat  reluctant  permission  to  make  the  experiment, 
they  gratefully  accepted  Christine's  generous  offer,  and 
began  their  preparations  at  once.  Mrs.  Campbell,  having 
once  consented,  did  not  spoil  her  consent  with  forebodings 
as  to  the  result,  but  with  warm  interest  consulted  with  and 
advised  Doris,  proposing  that  Hagar  and  Pareen  should  be 
regularly  installed  at  the  sugar-house,  and  one  or  two  women 
hired  to  fill  their  places  at  home,  as  their  skill  was  un 
doubted,  and  it  might  be  difficult  to  find  their  equals  for 
this  especial  work.  This  was  done,  and  henceforth  the 
wages  of  the  two  were  to  come  from  "  the  firm."  A  stout 
and  willing  negro  woman,  to  work  under  their  direction, 
was  also  hired,  and  then  the  enterprise  was  started,  very 
quietly,  and  without  any  public  notification  of  the  opening 
day. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

FOR  a  year  after  his  return  to  the  Island,  Leonard  strove, 
with  all  the  patience  he  could  muster,  to  direct  the 
work  in  a  profitable  manner,  but  discouragements  thickened, 
and  the  end  of  the  year  found  him  just  where  he  was  at  the 
beginning,  and  he  was  thankful  to  know  that  the  plantation 
was  out  of  debt ;  all  his  efforts  had  resulted  only  in  making 
the  running  expenses.  Common-sense,  of  which  he  had, 
fortunately,  a  rather  unusual  share,  told  him  that  an  invest 
ment  of  all  his  time,  strength,  and  energy  which  brought  no 
better  return  than  this,  was  in  no  sense  a  paying  investment, 
but  the  difficulty  of  disposing  of  the  plantation  in  a  manner 
which  would  yield  his  aunt  and  cousins  a  living  still  re 
mained,  for  of  course  their  living,  and  his  own  too,  had  been 
supplied,  and  if  this  were  not  money  it  was  money's  worth. 
The  subject  was  freely  and  frequently  discussed  between 
Mrs.  Campbell,  Doris,  and  Leonard,  and  the  latter  was  very 
glad  to  find  that  his  aunt  had  no  wish  to  remain  on  the 
plantation,  or  even  on  the  Island.  She  missed  her  husband 
daily  and  hourly,  and  it  often  seemed  to  her  that,  while  she 
should  think  of  him  no  less,  she  could  more  easily  endure  his 
loss  among  scenes  with  which  he  was  not  associated.  The 
last  sad  and  clouded  months  of  his  life  were  no  longer  most 
prominent  in  her  mind,  but  their  memory  was  gradually 
being  replaced  by  recollections  of  the  many  happy  years 
which  had  preceded  them.  Every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
plantation  recalled  some  scene  in  which  he  had  taken  part, 
until  sometimes  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  homesick  longing 
to  follow  him  must  take  her  to  him.  And  yet,  whenever 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  305 

this  longing  was  strongest,  her  heart  turned  self-reproach- 
fnlly  to  her  three  beloved  and  loving  children,  who,  by  every 
tender  and  thoughtful  care  they  could  devise,  strove  to  com 
fort  and  cheer  her,  and  she  felt  that  she  still  had  much  to 
live  for.  Little  Theo,  with  a  though  tfulness  far  beyond  her 
years,  began  to  try,  during  Doris's  daily  absence  at  the  sugar- 
house,  to  fill  her  place  in  many  ways,  more  than  content 
with  the  loving  praise  which  rewarded  her  efforts.  She  read 
aloud  to  her  mother,  carried  orders  and  messages  to  the  serv 
ants,  and  was  quick  to  divine  Mrs.  Campbell's  wants  and 
wishes.  Gentle  and  quiet  in  her  ways,  she  was  yet  a  merry 
little  thing,  and,  without  in  the  least  knowing  it,  did  more 
than  any  one  else  to  keep  the  house  bright  and  cheerful.  She 
was  very  unlike  what  Doris  had  been  at  her  age,  for  she 
cared  little  for  out-door  plays  and  pleasures,  her  chief  diver 
sion  being  a  beloved  doll,  of  which  she  never  wearied.  Doris 
had  taken  a  warm  interest  in  dolls,  but  not  in  "make- 
believe  "  of  any  sort,  and  she  was  often  not  a  little  puzzled 
by  Theo's  vagaries,  and  inclined  to  check  the  child.  But 
this  Mrs.  Campbell  would  not  permit,  trying,  on  the  con 
trary,  to  convince  Doris  that  there  was  a  wide  difference 
between  imagination  and  untruthful  ness. 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Doris  one  day,  with  some  little  vex 
ation,  when  the  case  in  point  had  been  a  long  conversation 
between  Theo  and  a  certain  white  hen  which  followed  the 
child  about  with  absurd  tame  ness  and  devotion,  "  it  seems 
to  me  she  ought  not  to  be  encouraged  when  she  says  such 
preposterously  untrue  things.  Why,  she  was  just  as  grave 
as  a  judge  all  the  while  that  she  was  reporting  what  i  Toppy ' 
had  told  her  about  a  '  chicken-party '  she  attended  last  night, 
and  she  really  seemed  as  if  she  were  trying  to  make  us  believe 
her  nonsense  !  How  can  we  know  whether  or  not  she  is 
telling  the  truth  about  anything  ?" 

"  Dear  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  gently,  and  ignor- 


306  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

ing  Doris's  rather  mixed  manner  of  speaking,  which  left  it 
doubtful  as  to  whether  Theo  or  '  Toppy '  were  the  culprit, 
"  be  just.  You  know  that  your  little  sister  is  the  soul  of 
honor  and  trustworthiness,  that  she  has  never  resorted  to 
the  least  untruth  to  serve  any  purpose  of  her  own,  and  I  can 
always  tell,  as  you  could  if  you  wished  to,  when  she  is 
romancing.  She  has  no  deceit  in  all  her  pure  little  heart, 
and  I  wish  you  to  be  very  careful  not  to  suggest  it  to  her. 
I  cannot  remember  the  exact  words,  but  good  old  Jeremy 
Taylor's  definition  of  a  lie  is  something  like  this :  '  That 
which  is  known  to  be  untrue,  told  with  the  intention  of 
deceiving?  Theo  has  no  such  intention,  but  she  has  always 
loved  fables  and  fairy  stories,  and  she  evidently  puts  her 
funny  little  narratives  in  the  same  category.  Do  not  give 
me  the  sorrow  of  seeing  you  alienate  her  from  you,  dear,  as 
you  assuredly  will,  if  you  persist  in  this  harsh  judgment  of 
her." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  harsh,  mamma,  but  I  am  afraid  I 
often  am,"  said  Doris,  penitently.  "You  know  papa  and 
Leonard  used  to  have  many  a  good  laugh  over  my  '  literal- 
ness,'  and  I'm  afraid  I  grow  worse  as  I  grow  older.  I  know 
Theo  is  truthful  about  all  real  things,  and  I  ought  not  to 
worry  over  the  others;  but  I  suppose  the  fact  of  the  busi 
ness  is,  that  I  have  been  provoked  more  than  once  lately  to 
find  myself  listening  seriously,  and  thinking  the  child  was 
speaking  in  earnest,  when  she  was  leading  up  to  some 
utterly  senseless  '  make-believe.'  Perhaps  it  has  irritated 
me  more  because  real  things  have  gone  so  hardly  with  us  of 
late." 

"No  doubt  it  has,"  replied  Mrs.  Campbell;  "but,  dar 
ling,  there  is  just  where  one  of  your  dangers  will  always  lie 
— in  trying  to  fit  all  your  surroundings  to  your  own  stand 
ard.  The  world  is  a  very  large  place,  and  we  have  need  to 
learn  early  that  conformity  to  the  wants  and  wishes  of  it, 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  307 

wherever  no  sacrifice  of  conscience  is  made,  will  both  give 
and  receive  far  more  happiness  than  resistance  and  intoler 
ance  will.  Try  to  believe  that  people  can  find  happiness  in 
many  things  which  would  yield  none  to  you,  or  you  will  be 
meeting  with  rubs  and  bumps  at  every  turn.  We  must 
learn  to  look  on  at  happiness,  and  take  an  outside  pleasure 
in  it,  or  life  will  be  a  dreary  thing  to  many  of  us  after  our 
first  youth  is  past." 

"Ah,  mamma,"  said  Doris,  wistfully,  "how  truly  you  do 
that!  But  I  shall  have  to  hammer  at  myself  to  the  end  of 
my  days — yes,  even  if  I  should  live  to  be  a  hundred  years 
old!" 

"  'But  He  giveth  more  grace,' "  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  "and 
if  I  have  achieved  any  victory,  it  has  been  through  that.  We 
only  fail,  when  we  fail  to  take  the  '  grace  and  strength  '  so 
freely  offered,  darling." 

Doris  made  a  valiant  effort,  after  this  talk  with  her 
mother,  not  only  to  tolerate  Theo's  happy  nonsense,  but  to 
interest  herself  in  it,  and  was  soon  rewarded  by  the  breaking 
down  of  a  sort  of  shy  reserve  which  Theo  had  heretofore 
manifested.  The  child  had  felt,  without  speaking  of  it,  the 
disapproval  which  Doris  had  so  often  shown,  and  it  had 
chilled  her  ;  now,  she  began  to  come  as  freely  to  her  older 
sister,  as  she  had  always  done  to  her  mother,  with  her  won 
derful  experiences  and  projects,  and  Doris  was  often  sur 
prised  at  the  vein  of  common  sense  and  practicality  which 
underlay  the  vivid  imagination.  To  Leonard,  Theo  was  an 
ever-fresh  delight ;  he  never  wearied  of  her  narratives,  and, 
when  she  did  not  feel  that  she  was  wanted  in  the  house,  she 
trotted  about  the  plantation  with  him,  "helping"  him  in 
the  room  which  he  had  fitted  up  with  a  carpenter's  bench 
and  lathe,  and  made  very  proud  and  happy  when  he  gave 
her  anything  to  do  for  him.  She  had  a  boy's  fondness  for 
whittling,  which  Leonard  encouraged,  as  soon  as  he  saw 


308  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

that  it  was  not  aimless,  and  that  she  was  remarkably  clever 
at  it.  Queer-looking  animals,  and  grotesque  little  dolls, 
were  the  results  of  her  work,  at  first,  but  with  practice,  her 
hands  grew  more  skilful  to  carry  out  the  designs  of  her  busy 
brain,  until  the  figures  and  small  panels  which  she  cut  were 
so  pretty  as  to  attract  attention  from  more  than  one  visitor. 
As  soon  as  she  found  that  her  work  was  admired,  it  became 
her  delight  to  make  gifts  of  it,  and  she  devoted  more  and 
more  time  to  the  workshop,  where  Leonard  helped  her  in 
every  possible  way,  choosing  suitable  wood  for  her  work, 
constructing  a  small  lathe  for  her,  and  doing  whatever  re 
quired  the  use  of  tools  too  large  and  heavy  for  her  slender 
little  hands.  He  was  enthusiastic,  to  his  aunt  and  Doris, 
about  the  talent  and  energy  which  the  child  displayed,  and 
urged  that  her  gift  might  be  cultivated  in  every  possible 
way.  But  Mrs.  Campbell  did  not  share  his  regret  that  there 
was  no  opportunity  for  this,  just  now,  for  she  considered 
Theo  much  too  young,  as  yet,  to  be  set  regularly  to  work, 
and  bound  down  to  fixed  tasks  and  hours,  and  she  begged 
Leonard  to  keep  his  little  cousin  with  him,  whenever  it  was 
possible,  as  he  went  about  the  plantation,  and  to  discourage 
her  from  working  long  at  a  time. 

The  receipts  from  "  the  firm  "  were  beginning,  now,  to  be 
really  worth  while ;  Clara,  Jane,  and  Doris  took  the  super 
vision  in  turn,  a  week  at  a  time,  so  that  it  came  less  heavily 
on  each  of  them.  Clara's  health  was  decidedly  improving, 
and  she  had  been  allowed  to  make  the  trial,  as,  under  the 
new  arrangement,  there  was  no  longer  any  need  for  either 
of  the  partners  to  do  any  of  the  laborious  work.  A  neat 
desk  was  fitted  up  in  a  corner  divided  from  the  rest  of  the 
space  by  a  slight  partition,  and  here  the  labels  were  cut  and 
written.  Jane  had  suggested  having  the  labels  printed,  but 
Doris  and  Clara  had  overruled  her;  it  was  necessary  that  one 
of  them  should  be  at  the  sugar-house,  while  the  work  went 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  309 

on,  for  Hagar  and  Pareen,  while  they  were  faithful  and  in 
telligent,  were  by  no  means  infallible,  and  mistakes  could 
not  be  afforded;  and  the  time  which  was  given  to  preparing 
the  labels  would  be  of  little  use  for  anything  else,  broken 
into,  as  it  always  and  necessarily  was,  by  attention  to  the 
work  going  on. 

"  But  printed  labels  would  look  so  much  more  business 
like,  and  as  if  we  were  nourishing,"  pleaded  Jane ;  "  I  am 
sure  they  would  make  a  better  impression.  Why  do  yon 
and  Clara  always  hold  me  down,  as  soon  as  I  begin  to 
soar?" 

"  My  dear,"  said  Doris,  laughing  at  Jane's  injured  expres 
sion,  "  a  kite  without  a  tail  is  a  helpless  thing,  no  matter 
how  good  the  breeze  is.  Clara  and  I  are  the  useful  bobs, 
which  keep  you  steady,  and  really  make  your  upward  flight 
possible,  while  we  seem  to  hinder  it,  and  try  to  keep  you 
down  ;  so  be  thankful  for  us,  instead  of  reviling  us ! " 

"That  is  a  beautiful  figure  of  speech,"  replied  Jane,  "but 
it  does  not  satisfy  me.  If  you  would  let  me  go  just  once, 
you  should  see  whether  I  would  *  flop/  and  the  next  time  I 
have  a  brilliant  idea,  I  mean  to  assume  all  the  risk,  and  try 
it,  in  spite  of  the  conservative  element  which  is  holding  this 
concern  back  from  fame  and  fortune  ! " 

"Very  well,"  said  Doris,  good-humoredly,  "you  are  ex 
tremely  grand,  since  that  last  division  ;  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
that  it  would  not  do  you  good  to  lose  a  little  of  your  wealth, 
so  on  those  terms,  if  Clara  is  agreed,  you  shall  carry  out  your 
next  brilliant  idea,  unless  it  will  endanger  the  credit  of  the 
firm.  Shall  we  let  her  do  it,  Clara  ?  " 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Clara,  "unless  it  should  be  some 
thing  entirely  too  magnificent.  But  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that,  if  we  lay  no  restraint  upon  her,  and  she  realizes  that  her 
splendid-possibility-fund  is  in  danger,  she  will  suddenly  be- 


310  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

come  as  conservative  as  we  are.  Do  you  remember  about 
the  sovereign,  Jeanie  ?  " 

"You  don't  give  me  a  chance  to  forget  about  it,  you 
goose,"  said  Jane,  laughing,  and  coloring  a  little. 

"  What  was  it?"  inquired  Doris;  "I  have  heard  you  speak 
of  it  before,  but  I  never  knew  what  you  meant." 

"I  prefer  to  tell  you  myself,  Doris,"  said  Jane,  as  Clara 
was  about  to  speak;  "though  it  isn't  worth  telling,  but 
Clara  will  be  needlessly  circumstantial!  I  had  a  sovereign 
given  to  me  for  a  birthday-present,  when  I  attained  the  ma 
ture  age  of  six,  and  after  proposing  to  buy  a  large  number 
of  impossible  things  with  it,  I  slipped  it  down  a  mysterious 
crack  in  a  rock,  about  which  I  had  many  imaginings,  to 
keep  myself  from  spending  in  haste,  and  repenting  at 
leisure.  It  dawned  upon  me,  just  as  my  treasure  disap 
peared,  that  I  might  find  some  difficulty  in  collecting  it,  and 
this  presentiment  was  fulfilled.  To  the  best  of  my  knowl 
edge  and  belief,  it  is  down  there  yet!" 

Doris  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  feel  much  safer  about  our  capital  now,"  she  said, 
"for  when  it  comes  down  to  facts,  Jeanie,  you  are  far  more 
conservative  than  either  of  us  !  So  we  will  just  let  you  talk, 
with  easy  minds." 

"Don't  be  too  easy,"  said  Jane,  warningly.  "It  is  many 
years  since  I  lost  my  sovereign  by  way  of  saving  it,  and  I 
have  grown  much  more  daring  since  then.  I  give  up,  for  the 
present  at  least,  about  the  labels;  but  I  will  carry  out  my 
very  next  inspiration  if  it  bankrupts  me!" 

This  threat  seemed  to  have  a  restraining  influence  upon 
Jane's  imagination,  for  several  weeks  passed  without  any 
fresh  announcement  from  her,  and  Doris  and  Clara  laugh 
ingly  declared  that  she  was  afraid  of  herself.  They  were 
well  content  to  plod  steadily  on;  if  the  gain  was  small,  so 
was  the  risk,  and  the  management  became  more  easy  from 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  311 

week  to  week,  as  Hagar  and  Pareen  gained  experience. 
They  frequently  received  small  orders,  now,  from  visitors  to 
the  Island,  and  one  or  two  more  came  from  New  York  firms, 
for  the  great  pains  which  they  took  to  keep  up  the  quality 
of  their  wares  were  by  no  means  thrown  away,  and  before 
they  had  occupied  the  sugar-house  long,  they  were  obliged 
to  hire  another  assistant.  But  by  this  time  they  had  learned 
how  to  direct  the  work  so  that  it  was  much  more  economic 
ally  done  than  it  had  been  at  first,  so  that,  with  increasing 
profits,  they  could  afford  the  expense  of  another  helper. 
Their  enterprise  was  beginning  to  be  talked  of,  for,  quietly 
as  it  had  been  conducted,  it  could  not  have  been  kept  secret 
even  had  they  so  wished,  and  visits  were  now  quite  frequent, 
not  only  from  their  friends  but  from  perfect  strangers. 

"  I  declare,  Doris,  I  am  tempted  to  print  a  huge  sign  with 
the  legend,  *  No  admittance  except  on  business,'  and  hang  it 
like  a  screen  in  front  of  the  desk!"  exclaimed  Jane  one 
morning  when  interruptions  had  been  frequent  and  annoy 
ing.  "We  have  some  rights  which  the  public  is  bound 
to  respect,  if  it  could  only  be  made  aware  of  it !  Don't 
you  think  we  had  better  have  the  sign  ?" 

"No,"  said  Doris,  laughing  at  Jane's  tragic  air,  "not  just 
yet,  anyhow.  Did  you  hear  what  that  nice  old  lady  said — 
the  one  who  ordered  three  dozen  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  heard,  and  my  soul  was  filled  with  remorse,  for 
it  was  to  you  that  she  said  it,  and  if  you  had  not  happened 
to  come  just  as  you  did,  I  do  not  believe  she  would  have 
ordered  a  single  jar,  for  I  did  not  feel  at  all  obliging 
to-day." 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  I  came,  then,"  replied  Doris.  "  I 
was  grumbling  a  little  to  myself  for  not  having  finished  that 
lot  of  labels  while  I  was  here  last  week;  but  I  am  quite 
resigned  now,  for  my  old  lady  promised  to  send  me  some 
more  people,  and  I  think  she  will  do  it." 


312  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  "you  evidently  made  a  conquest.  And 
it  was  a  happy  thought  to  let  her  taste  the  jelly.  You  are 
a  much  better  business-woman  than  I  am,  Doris,  when  it 
really  '  comes  to,'  as  Hagar  says." 

"No,  not  better,  only  different,  Mamma  says  we  make  a 
very  g«od  firm,  just  because  we  are  different.  But,  Jeanie, 
did  you  hear  what  my  old  lady— Miss  McConnell,  her  name 
is — was  saying  to  me  while  I  showed  her  about i  the  manu 
factory,'  as  she  insisted  on  calling  the  dear  old  sugar- 
house  ?  " 

"  No,  I  was  busy  here  in  the  office  with  that  little  tangle 
in  the  accounts,  which  I  am  happy  to  say  is  all  straight  now, 
and  I  paid  small  attention  to  them  beyond  wishing  them  all 
in  Halifax.  What  was  it?  Anything  worth  while?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Doris,  thoughtfully.  "  People  some 
times  say  things,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  which  they 
quite  mean  at  the  time,  and  then  go  away  and  forget  all 
about  it.  She  did  not  question  me  at  all  impertinently,  but 
she  seemed  so  interested,  and  was  so  nice  and  kind,  that  I 
told  her  more  than  I  should  have  imagined  I  would  tell  to  a 
stranger  about  our  affairs  and  how  we  came  to  enter  upon 
this  undertaking.  It  seems  she  knows  Mr.  Santon  quite 
well — not  Victor,  you  know,  but  his  uncle — and  he  must 
have  told  her  a  great  deal  about  us,  and  spoken  in  the  kind 
est  manner  of  your  drawing  and  my  music.  She  lamented 
so  over  the  loss  of  my  piano,  and  my  want  of  opportunity  to 
practice,  that  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  myself,  and  then  she 
suddenly  asked  me  why  we  did  not  come  to  the  United 
States,  and  make  some  arrangement  for  teaching  and  con 
tinuing  our  studies  at  the  same  time.  I  told  her  frankly 
that  it  was  impossible  unless  we  could  sell  the  plantations, 
and  she  seemed  so  sorry.  She  asked  me  if  it  had  occurred 
to  us  to  try  to  rent  them,  since  they  could  not  be  sold ;  and 
I  said  it  hadn't,  so  far  as  I  knew.  I  wonder  it  has  not,  and 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  313 

I  mean  to  speak  to  mamma  and  Leonard  about  it  as  soon 
as  1  go  home." 

"  Why,  papa  thought  of  that  several  months  ago,"  said 
Jane,  "  and  he  even  put  advertisements  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia  papers,  but  nothing  ever  came  of  it.  I  grow 
so  impatient,  sometimes,  when  I  think  of  all  we  might  do  if 
the  plantations  could  only  be  sold  or  rented.  It  is  just  like 
being  tied  to  a  post.  How  do  you  keep  yourself  so  tranquil 
and  patient,  Doris,  and  manage  not  to  fret?  " 

"  But  I  don't,"  replied  Doris.  "  I  am  afraid  I  fret  a  great 
deal,  inside ;  but  all  the  time  dear  papa  was  ill  we  tried  so 
hard  to  keep  painful  things  away  from  him,  and  always  to 
be  cheerful  with  him,  that  I  suppose  I  formed  a  sort  of 
habit  of  keeping  my  worriments  to  myself." 

"  It's  a  most  excellent  habit  to  form.  I  have  always  de 
spised  these  groany  people,  who  impose  their  woes  upon 
every  one  who  comes  near  them,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be 
one  of  them,  before  long,  if  things  don't  take  'a  turn.' 
I  am  fast  approaching  the  explosive  point,  with  suppressed 
and  uncalled-for  energies!" 

Doris  laughed ;  Jane's  bright,  energetic  face  and  resolute 
manner  so  completely  contradicted  her  apprehension. 

But  there  certainly  was  force  enough  in  "the  firm"  for 
more  and  better  work  than  they  were  called  upon  to  do. 
The  business  ran  very  smoothly  now,  under  their  careful  and 
systematic  supervision,  and  Doris  often  longed  for  work  in 
which  her  intellect  might  have  a  share.  Yet  she  was  learn 
ing,  almost  unconsciously,  the  lesson  of  this  hard  discipline. 
Patience  and  faith  were  growing.  "  To  the  day,  the  day," 
she  often  repeated  to  herself,  and  it  did  not  seem  impossible, 
now,  to  live  a  day  at  a  time.  Her  bright  cheerfulness  was 
slowly  returning,  as,  at  her  age,  it  was  natural  that  it  should, 
and  she  and  Leonard  had  gone  back  to  some  of  the  amuse 
ments  and  occupations  of  the  happy  days  which  now  seemed 
14 


314  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

so  far  away  in  the  past.  Dirck  had  not  been  seen  since  the 
night  of  the  rebellion,  although  Cudjoe  had  been  quietly  and 
cautiously  searching  for  him  ever  since,  and  the  horses  which 
were  left  were  unfit  for  Doris  to  ride;  but  Leonard  and 
Cudjoe  kept  the  sail-boat  in  beautiful  order,  and  many  an 
evening  was  spent  on  the  waters  of  the  harbor.  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  was  sometimes  induced  to  go  with  them,  and  always 
seemed  refreshed  and  strengthened  by  the  change.  Although 
far  from  strong,  she  was  generally  well  now,  and  both  Doris 
and  Leonard  guarded  her  health  with  unceasing  watchful 
ness  and  loving  care. 

Jane  and  Clara  frequently  came  towards  evening ;  Clara 
did  not  care  for  sailing,  and  loved  to  sit  with  Mrs.  Campbell, 
knowing  that  Doris  never  felt  quite  comfortable  in  leaving 
her  mother  alone.  So  Leonard  would  take  Jane  and  Doris 
in  the  boat,  and  he  began  to  wonder  if  Jane  had  really 
changed  very  much  since  her  school-girl  days,  or  if  he  were 
only  now  learning  to  appreciate  her.  She  showed  to  great 
advantage  when  she  was  with  him,  for,  while  she  esteemed 
him  very  highly,  her  knowledge  of  his  former  preference  for 
Hilda  made  her  feel  that  she  might  safely  manifest  her  real 
friendship  for  him,  free  from  any  fear  that  he  would  imagine 
more  than  friendship.  Like  Doris,  she  fancied  that  he 
would  remain  faithful  to  a  memory,  and  she  felt  no  little 
surprise  at  the  light-hearted  manner  in  which  he  went  about 
both  work  and  play.  It  seemed  to  her  the  most  successful 
concealment  of  a  heart-sorrow  that  could  be  imagined,  and 
he,  in  his  turn,  was  often  perplexed  by  her  puzzled  expres 
sion,  if  he  happened  to  be  especially  cheerful. 

Doris,  who  could  not  help  seeing  the  turn  affairs  were 
taking,  was  divided  between  delight  and  indignation.  It 
was  no  wonder  that  Leonard  should  be  charmed  with  such 
a  woman  as  Jane  had  grown  to  be,  had  he  been  free  to  be 
charmed  by  anybody,  but — must  she  really  readjust,  or 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  315 

rather  reconstruct,  all  her  youthful  fancies  and  theories,  be 
fore  they  would  fit  everyday  facts?  It  seemed  so. 

It  was  Doris's  week  at  the  "manufactory,"  and  her  new 
friend  took  advantage  of  the  fact  to  call  frequently,  pleading 
as  her  excuse  the  fact  that  her  stay  in  the  Island  was  nearly  over, 
and  that  she  had  still  much  to  say.  She  made  rather  minute 
inquiries  regarding  Doris's  qualification  for  teaching,  and 
her  wishes  concerning  it,  apologizing  for  the  "impertinence" 
of  her  questions,  and  assuring  Doris  that  they  were  not 
prompted  by  idle  curiosity.  She  gave  no  promises,  but  the 
very  fact  that  she  did  not  hold  out  any  especial  hope  some 
how  made  Doris  all  the  more  hopeful.  Jane  was  so  often 
mentioned  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that  Miss  McCon- 
ncll  expressed  a  desire  to  meet  her;  so  an  afternoon  was 
fixed,  and  Jane  came  to  the  sugar-house  simply  to  please 
Doris.  A  pleasant  talk  ensued,  and  Doris  was  delighted 
with  the  impression  which  Jane's  bright  intelligence  had 
evidently  made. 

Their  new  friend  was  even  better  than  her  word  about 
securing  additional  orders  for  them.  She  brought  several 
visitors  with  her  on  her  last  call,  each  of  whom  left  an  order, 
to  be  filled  and  shipped  at  the  convenience  of  "the  firm." 
She  parted  from  them  with  real  and  evident  regret,  but 
spoke  hopefully  of  meeting  them  again. 

"I  will  never,  no  never  more  grumble  at  the  interruption 
of  visitors,"  said  Jane,  as  she  and  Doris  returned  from  the 
harbor,  where  they  had  gone  to  see  the  last  of  their  friend ; 
"why  don't  you  reproach  me,  Doris,  for  the  fuss  I  made  the 
first  day  that  most  excellent  old  lady  came  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  evidently  reproaching  yourself  with 
sufficient  severity,"  replied  Doris,  "and  I  am  only  afraid 
that,  after  this  notable  instance,  your  keen  eye  to  business 
will  lead  you  to  make  things  altogether  too  agreeable  when 
people  call." 


316  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  "instead  of  the  forbidding  sign  which 
I,  in  my  short-sighted  folly,  contemplated,  I  mean  to  illumi 
nate  '  Welcome  to  All/  on  a  large  piece  of  bristol-board,  and 
fasten  it  up  in  a  conspicuous  place.  Then  I  think  we  had 
better  bring  some  comfortable  chairs,  and  a  small  table,  and 
arrange  them  near  the  office  end  of  '  the  manufactory,'  and 
perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  have  some  bread  on  hand, 
and  offer  bread  and  jelly  to  our  visitors — don't  you  think  it 
would?" 

"  Certainly  !"  replied  Doris,  falling  in  with  Jane's  humor, 
"and  coffee — Hagar  makes  delicious  coffee,  and  we  will  have 
it  handed  immediately,  when  people  call.  That  will  put 
them  in  a  good  humor,  to  begin  with,  and  no  doubt  our 
orders  will  double  in  number  and  amount." 

"It  wouldn't  be  such  a  bad  plan,"  said  Jane,  reflectingly ; 
"people  are  always  in  better  humor,  when  they've  been  eat 
ing  and  drinking — that  is  proverbial — and  as  they  would 
probably  be  hungry,  a  very  inferior  jelly  to  our  '  first-class 
article'  would  seem  delightful  to  them.  I  really  think  I 
will  try  it,  when  it  is  my  week  again !" 

"  Oh,  Jeanie!  you  can't  be  in  earnest?  You  wouldn't  be 
such  a  goose ! " 

"My  dear  Doris,  I  would  be  a  goose,  or  a  hen,  or  any  re 
spectable  domestic  fowl,  if  I  could  thereby  advance  our  busi 
ness  interests.  At  present,  it  is  the  great  ambition  of  my 
life  to  be  truly  business-like ;  to  prove  that  women  can  suc 
ceed  in  things  which  require  common-sense  and  a  strict  ad 
herence  to  business  principles,  and  I  don't  wish  to  overlook 
any  chance,  however  small,  of  bettering  ourselves.  I  have 
set  my  heart  upon  making  enough  money  to  take  us  to  the 
States,  and,  even  if  we  don't  succeed,  it  is  better  to  aim 
too  high  than  too  low.  For  the  money,  in  itself,  I  don't 
care  a  fig,  nor  for  the  sort  of  consideration  which  people 
give  one  for  it ;  but  when  I  think  of  all  the  delightful  things 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  317 

that  are  made  possible  by  it,  and  of  the  starved  and  stinted 
life  which,  in  many  ways,  is  all  we  can  compass  here,  then  I 
become  rapacious." 

"I  know,"  replied  Doris;  "I  feel  that  way,  sometimes, 
too,  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  afraid  to  be  too  eager 
— to  insist  too  hard  upon  having  my  wishes.  When  Theo 
was  a  few  years  younger,  she  used  to  be  frantic  to  get  hold  of 
fire  and  light,  and  one  night,  before  Nana  could  stop  her, 
she  actually  did  put  her  little  hand  right  in  the  flame  of  a 
candle.  She  had  been  hindered  and  thwarted,  over  and  over 
again,  very  cruelly  and  unjustly,  as  she  no  doubt  thought, 
but  she  had  her  wish  at  last,  poor  little  soul !  I  don't  know 
how  many  times  I  have  thought  of  it  since,  but  I  know  it  is 
a  good  many." 

"  I  will  try  to  think  of  it,  too — I  don't  wish  to  be  too 
eager,  too  grasping,"  said  Jane,  humbly;  "and  perhaps  I  am 
letting  myself  dwell  upon  it  too  much.  Oh,  Doris!  it  is 
very  hard  to  keep  one's  head  in  the  '  eternal  sunshine,'  isn't 
it?" 

"Indeed  it  is,"  replied  Doris,  earnestly;  "and  mamma 
always  says  that  the  only  sure  way  to  drive  out  badness  is  to 
put  in  goodness — '  two  bodies  cannot  occupy  the  same  space 
at  the  same  time,'  you  know." 

To  the  old,  and  often  to  the  middle-aged,  eventless  days 
are  welcome,  for  these  know  only  too  well  how  many  of  the 
happenings  of  life  are  sad ;  but  to  the  young  they  seem  irk 
some  and  tedious  as  they  slowly  pass.  Yet,  as  some  one  has 
said,  the  time  which  seems  long  in  passing  often  seems  short 
in  the  retrospect,  for  there  are  no  landmarks  to  divide  day 
from  day,  and  memory  is  confused  by  the  sameness.  And 
often,  after  a  long  season  of  quiet  monotony,  which  seems  to 
be  the  established  order  of  things,  and  almost  as  if  it  might 
never  yield  to  change,  events  follow  each  other  in  rapid  suc 
cession,  like  the  waves  of  a  torrent  long  held  back. 


318  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Doris  had  grown  so  used  to  the  routine  of  her  life,  there 
was  so  much  that  was  peaceful  and  pleasant  about  it,  that, 
ardently  as  she  had  sometimes  wished  for  a  change,  she  felt 
a  faint  regret  when  at  last  it  came.  The  first  break,  occur 
ring  about  a  month  after  Miss  McConnell  left  the  Island, 
was  the  arrival  of  a  letter  from  Mr.  Santon  to  Leonard,  con 
taining  a  very  fair  offer  for  renting  the  plantation,  with  the 
possibility  of  ultimate  purchase.  Mr.  Santon  vouched  for 
the  firm  which  made  the  offer — a  New  York  mercantile 
house — and  strongly  recommended  its  acceptance.  The 
amount  oifered  would,  Leonard  thought,  keep  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  and  her  daughters  comfortably,  if  not  luxuriously,  in 
New  York,  and  still  more  comfortably,  should  they  decide 
to  live  in  a  smaller  town  or  a  village.  Mrs.  Campbell  was 
perfectly  willing  that  the  offer  should  be  accepted  at  once, 
for  she  was  feeling  much  distressed  by  Leonard's  detention 
from  his  studies,  and  she  knew  he  would  not  leave  the  Island 
so  long  as  he  felt  that  his  services  were  needed.  Indeed,  so 
afraid  was  he  of  appearing  to  feel  bound,  that  he  would  not 
urge  the  acceptance  of  the  offer,  presenting,  as  fairly  as  he 
could,  both  sides  of  the  question  for  his  aunt's  consideration. 
The  adverse  side  was  the  possibility  that,  after  their  removal 
to  the  United  States,  and  the  expiration  of  the  term  named 
in  the  offer,  it  might  be  found  impossible  either  to  rent  or 
sell  the  plantation,  when  their  income  would,  of  course, 
abruptly  cease. 

But  here  Doris  took  the  word.  She  felt  very  sure  that, 
with  the  year  of  security  which  was  offered  them,  to  begin 
with,  she  could  succeed  in  making  a  comfortable  income  as 
a  teacher.  Mr.  Santon  had  more  than  once  promised  to  use 
his  influence  to  obtain  teaching  for  her  to  do,  should  she 
succeed  in  coming  to  America,  and  there  was  no  doubt 
either  of  his  ability  or  his  good-will.  Mrs.  Campbell  agreed 
with  Doris,  for  the  future  seemed  to  her  much  more  doubt- 


DORIS  AND    7^HEODORA.  319 

ful  for  them,  should  they  remain  on  the  Island.  So  it  was 
settled,  and  Leonard  was  authorized  to  write  the  letter  of 
acceptance  ;  while  Mrs.  Campbell  and  Doris,  each  more  anx 
ious  for  the  comfort  of  the  other  than  for  her  own,  tried  to 
see  only  the  bright  side  of  the  change  about  to  take  place. 


OHAPTEE    XX. 

THE  first  person  to  whom  Doris  naturally  went  with 
her  news  was  Jane,  and  she  went  with  no  little  regret 
and  anxiety,  for,  although  Jane  and  Clara  were  quite  capable 
of  carrying  on  the  business  without  her,  she  feared  that 
Jane,  at  least,  would  not  think  so,  and  also  that  Hagar  and 
Pareen  would  be  unwilling  to  remain  after  her  departure, 
and  she  knew  that  to  fill  their  places  satisfactorily  would  be 
difficult,  if  not  impossible. 

She  received  another  lesson  upon  crossing  bridges  before 
one  comes  to  them.  Half-way  between  the  two  houses,  she 
met  Jane  and  Clara,  on  their  way  to  see  her,  and  they  in 
sisted  upon  turning  back,  that  she  might  not  miss  the  drive 
with  Leonard,  for  it  was  a  charming  evening,  and  they  knew 
how  seldom  such  drives  occurred. 

"  But  then  mamma  will  lose  your  visit,"  said  Doris,  hesi 
tating,  "and  she  is  always  so  glad  to  see  you  both." 

"  And  so  is  mamma  glad  to  see  you  both,"  said  Jane, 
"  and  Clara  and  I  will  go  to  see  you  very  soon,  whereas 
there  is  no  telling  when  you  will  make  another  effort  on  our 
behalf!  Come,  don't  you  see  we  have  already  turned  ?  so  you 
are  keeping  the  procession  waiting  ! " 

"  I  will  not  be  utterly  crushed,"  said  Doris,  laughing;  "if 
I  let  you  turn  back,  I  shall  make  my  own  terms ;  come  here, 
imperious  Jane,  and  take  my  place,  while  I  take  yours  with 
Clara,  then  a  double  amount  of  talking  can  be  done,  and 
much  valuable  time  saved,  for  we  cannot  stay  late." 

Doris  called  herself  a  coward  as  she  said  this — a  sudden 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  321 

impulse  had  seized  her  to  let  Leonard,  instead  of  herself, 
tell  Jane  the  news. 

"  That's  an  easy  condition,"  said  Jane,  rising  at  once,  and 
stepping  down  from  the  chaise  before  Leonard  could  spring 
to  help  her,  "  and  as  Mr.  Campbell  was  not  consulted, 
he  has  nothing  to  do  but  meekly  submit  to  the  inevi 
table." 

The  exchange  was  effected,  and  then  the  two  vehicles  be 
came  separated,  for  the  chaise  which  Clara  drove  was  already 
in  advance,  and  was  drawn  by  much  the  better  horse  of  the 
two. 

Before  Doris  could  introduce  the  subject  uppermost 
in  her  mind,  Clara,  speaking  with  unusual  animation, 
said  : 

"  We  have  heard  your  good  news,  Doris  dear,  and  we  were 
coming  both  to  congratulate  you,  and  to  tell  you  ours — un 
less  you  have  heard  too — have  you  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Doris,  wondering,  "  and  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  have  heard  my  news — you  must  mean  something  else,  I 
think." 

"  Then  two  wonderful  things  have  happened  to  you 
lately,"  said  Clara,  merrily;  "but  the  one  that  I  mean  is 
the  offer  to  rent  the  plantation." 

"Why,  that  is  my  news!"  said  Doris;  "but  how  in  the 
world  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  In  no  mysterious  manner,  my  dear.  Doctor  Svensen 
told  papa,  quite  naturally,  when  papa  consulted  with  hi  in 
about  the  offer  for  our  plantation — the  dear  old  doctor 
ought  to  charge  legal,  as  well  as  medical  fees,  for  I  do  believe 
half  the  people  in  the  Island  ask  his  advice  about  matters  of 
business.  Papa  was  a  little  doubtful,  for  he  is  always  so 
sanguine,  you  know,  and  he  still  clings  to  the  hope  that 
things  may  be  rearranged,  and  take  a  fresh  start  on  the 
Island,  and  he  did  not  think  the  offer  quite  large  enough  ; 


322  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

but  Doctor  Svensen  urged  him  by  all  means  to  accept,  as  he 
thinks  things  must  grow  worse,  instead  of  better,  and  by 
way  of  clinching  his  argument,  he  said  that  Mrs.  Campbell 
had  just  decided  to  accept  an  offer,  no  larger  in  proportion 
than  this,  for  renting  her  estate.  Papa  asked  him  if  he  were 
himself  thinking  of  emigrating,  but  he  said,  very  sadly,  no, 
he  was  too  old  for  so  radical  a  change ;  but  that  he  would  not 
be  so  selfish  as  to  counsel  any  of  his  friends  to  stay  by  the 
sinking  ship!" 

"  Dear  old  man  !"  said  Doris,  with  tears  springing  to  her 
eyes  as  she  spoke ;  "  he  could  not  be  selfish  now,  I  do  believe, 
even  if  he  were  to  wish  to — the  whole  habit  of  his  life,  for  so 
many  years,  has  been  unselfishness.  How  hard  it  will  be  to 
live  anywhere  without  him.  But  oh,  Clara,  I  am  very,  very 
glad  that  you  are  coming  too.  We  can  all  be  homesick 
together,  for  I  know  right  well  that  we  shall  be  homesick, 
everything  in  the  States  is  so  utterly  different  from  this  dear 
place." 

"  There  will  be  one  good  thing  about  it,"  said  Clara, 
hopefully  :  "  we  shall  be  too  busy,  for  awhile  at  least,  to  be 
very  miserable,  and  dearly  as  I  love  the  Island,  I  have 
always  had  a  little  wish  to  live  in  the  States,  and  I  should 
wish  still  more  for  it,  if  I  were  a  man.  A  republic  is  better 
than  a  monarchy — it  must  be." 

"  Now,  Clara,"  said  Doris— ready,  as  they  all  were,  always, 
for  an  argument—"  if  Miss  Anna  were  to  hear  you  say  that, 
she  would  tell  you  it  was  a  far  too  sweeping  and  unqualified 
assertion.  A  limited  and  well-administered  monarchy  must, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  be  better  than  a  lawless  and  un 
limited  republic." 

"  I  am  not  by  any  means  sure  of  that,"  replied  Clara, 
standing  bravely  to  her  colors;  "for  a  monarchy,  no  matter 
how  beneficent  it  is,  must  always  touch  the  interests  of  the 
people  somewhere,  and  even  a  lawless  republic  has  the  possi- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  323 

bilities,  for  the  future,  which  a  monarchy  can  never  have — 
but  here  we  are,  Doris,  so  I  shall  have  to  postpone  convincing 
you  to  some  future  time." 

"Postpone  being  convinced,  you  mean!"  said  Doris, 
laughing,  as  they  alighted  from  the  chaise.  "  Why,  where 
are  Jeanie  and  Leonard  ?  I  thought  they  were  right  behind 
us." 

"  I  suppose  they  turned  into  the  other  road,"  said  Clara  ; 
"  it  is  rather  longer,  but  so  much  better  than  this,  that  I 
meant  to  take  it,  and  then  the  charms  of  your  conversation 
made  me  oblivious  of  the  turn  I  should  have  taken,  until 
after  we  had  passed  it.  There  !  that  is  to  atone  for  having 
jolted  you  unnecessarily,  my  dear." 

"  The  atonement  is  ample,  but  the  inference  is  sadly  plain — 
they  were  not  oblivious  ;  I  hope  they  are  not  quarreling — 
Jeanie  has  a  wicked  way  of  twisting  what  Leonard  says, 
sometimes." 

"It  is  not  only  Leonard,"  said  Clara,  smiling ;  "it  is  one 
of  Jeanie's  theories  that  most,  if  not  all,  men  '  assume  too 
much,'  and  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every  right-minded  woman 
to  help  them  to  find  their  level." 

"  We  will  not  wait  for  them,  then,"  said  Doris,  going  up 
the  steps  as  she  spoke  ;  "  when  they  have  finished  leveling 
each  other,  they  will  probably  turn  their  attention  to  poor 
old  Duke,  who  is  no  doubt  taking  advantage  of  the  conflict 
to  walk  every  step  of  the  way." 

Cordial  greetings  had  hardly  been  exchanged,  when  the 
supposed  belligerents  appeared;  but  it  struck  both  Doris 
and  Clara  that  they  looked  surprisingly  meek,  and  were  un 
necessarily  explanatory  about  having  come  by  the  longer 
road.  However,  the  talk  soon  turned  upon  the  all-absorbing 
topic,  and  the  animated  discussion  which  followed  made  the 
evening  seem  only  too  short.  The  same  thought  had  oc 
curred  to  both  Doris  and  Jane — that  Miss  McConnell  was  in 


324  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

some  way  connected  with  the  sudden  turn  in  the  fortunes  of 
both  families,  and  it  may  as  well  be  mentioned  here  that  this 
proved  to  be  the  case,  although  the  girls  did  not  ascertain  it 
for  some  time  afterward.  Her  interest  hacl  been  deep  and 
real,  and  she  had  lost  no  time,  upon  returning  home,  in  car 
rying  out  a  plan  which  had  occurred  to  her  while  she  was 
still  with  them,  but  of  which  she  would  not  speak,  until  she 
could  be  quite  sure  of  not  raising  false  hopes.  Most  of  her 
money  was  invested  with  the  firm  in  whose  name  the  planta 
tions  had  been  leased,  and  she  had  resolved  that,  if  she  could 
induce  Mr.  Remby,  the  head  of  the  firm,  to  join  her  in  the 
venture,  she  would  in  this  manner  enable  the  girls  to  make 
a  fresh  start  where  there  would  be  every  hope  of  success  to 
encourage  them.  Her  income  was  not  sufficiently  large  to 
accomplish  all  her  purpose  unaided,  but  she  had  no  difficulty 
in  persuading  Mr.  Remby  to  share  the  venture.  The  loss  to 
him  would  be  trifling,  he  said,  compared  with  losses  which 
he  was  constantly  incurring  in  the  conduct  of  his  business, 
even  should  the  venture  prove  an  utter  failure ;  but  he  did 
not  intend  that  it  should  fail !  He  chose  an  energetic  and 
capable  clerk  from  the  large  staff  in  his  warehouse,  and  gave 
him  carte  Uanclie  in  the  selection  of  twenty  or  thirty 
laborers,  only  stipulating  that  those  who  had  families  were 
to  be  allowed  to  take  them.  Their  passage  was  to  be  paid, 
in  all  cases  where  they  were  unable  to  pay  it,  with  the  un 
derstanding  that  it  was  to  be  "  worked  out"  immediately 
upon  their  arrival.  These  men  were  picked  out  with  care 
and  much  patient  investigation,  and  nearly  all  of  them  ful 
filled  the  hopes  of  their  employers ;  so  Leonard's  plan  was 
carried  out,  after  all ! 

Miss  McConnell  and  Mr.  Remby  were  old  and  intimate 
friends,  and  were  in  full  sympathy  in  certain  of  their 
" views"  about  helping  people,  agreeing  that  the  truest  and 
best  help  was  that  which  enabled  any  one  in  want  or  distress 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  325 

to  help  himself;  for  there  are  times  in  many  lives,  when  the 
"helping  hand,"  outstretched  or  withheld,  means  all  the 
difference  between  a  return  to  prosperity  and  a  hopeless 
descent  into  adversity. 

Miss  McConnell  felt  very  sure  that,  if  these  two  girls  who 
had  so  awakened  her  interest  could  only  find  standing-room, 
they  would  use  their  levers  to  good  purpose.  She  had  at 
first  thought  only  of  securing  them  situations  as  teachers  or 
governesses,  and  advancing  them  the  money  for  their  passage 
to  the  United  States  ;  but  after  being  introduced  to  their 
homes,  she  became  convinced  that  this  would  not  be  the 
right  thing  to  do — they  were  both  too  much  needed  to  be 
spared,  and  she  felt  sure  that  Doris,  and  probably  Jane  also, 
would  decline  her  offer  on  this  account.  She  hoped,  too,  in 
arranging  her  plan,  for  two  other  good  results — the  change 
of  climate  might  do  much  for  Mrs.  Campbell's  health,  and 
Leonard  would  be  honorably  released  from  his  self-appointed 
bondage. 

The  long  calm  was  at  an  end.  The  bustle  of  preparation 
seemed  to  be  in  the  very  air,  and  the  girls  met  only  for  hur 
ried  interviews.  For  their  passage  was  taken ;  they  were  to 
sail  in  two  weeks,  that  they  might  escape  the  beginning  of 
the  hurricane  season,  for  it  was  now  the  middle  of  June. 
Doris  was  glad  that  so  little  time  was  left  for  thought,  for 
now  that  their  departure  was  inevitable,  she  was  haunted  by 
the  thronging  memories  of  happy  days  and  years,  and  a  long 
ing  regret,  a  sort  of  anticipated  home-sickness,  surged  over 
her  like  a  wave,  whenever  she  allowed  herself  to  think.  And 
she  knew,  beside,  that  notwithstanding  the  brave  cheerful 
ness  always  maintained  in  her  presence,  how  her  mother's 
heart  would  be  wrung  by  this  parting  from  the  home  so  full 
of  tender  recollections  and  associations.  Only  that  which 
could  die  lay  in  the  carefully  tended  grave  whose  headstone 


326  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

bore  her  father's  name,  and  yet  it  seemed  cruel  to  leave  that 
grave  to  neglect  and  disorder. 

The  old  home,  every  room  of  which  had  held  dear  mem 
ories,  was  gone,  never  to  return ;  but  lovely  foliage,  and 
sparkling  skies,  and  the  blue,  laughing  waters  of  the  harbor, 
still  remained,  and  to  these  the  hearts  of  mother  and  daugh 
ter  clung. 

Doris  was  thankful,  from  every  point  of  view,  for  a  diver 
sion  of  their  thoughts  which  occurred  about  a  week  before 
their  departure.  At  the  time  of  the  general  liberation  of 
the  slaves,  Mr.  Campbell  had,  at  Hagar's  request,  placed  in 
her  hands  the  sum  of  money  which  Glasgow  had  saved,  and 
of  which  ho  thought  it  right  to  tell  her,  after  Glasgow's 
death.  He  had  done  this  reluctantly,  fearing  she  would 
make  some  foolish  use  of  it,  or  squander  it  gradually  in 
small  sums ;  but  she  had  always  been  a  reserved  and  silent 
woman,  faithful  in  her  work,  but  not  showing  the  aifection 
and  devotion  manifested  by  her  husband  ;  and  Mr.  Camp 
bell  had  feared  that  she  might  construe  any  remonstrance 
from  him  as  reluctance  to  part  with  the  money.  So  it  had 
been  handed  to  her  with  only  a  slight  but  emphatic  charge 
to  be  careful  of  it,  and  not  to  allow  herself  to  be  wheedled 
into  lending  it,  to  which  she  had  quietly  replied : 

"  It  have  (there  is)  no  danger,  Massa.  Glasgow  work  too 
hard  for  it  for  me  not  to  take  care  o'  it  now  he  gone." 

None  of  the  family  had  ever  discovered  what  she  did  with 
it ;  even  Pareen  and  Cudjoe  did  not  know,  and  they  all  sup 
posed  that  she  had  either  given  or  lent  it  in  small  sums,  un 
til  it  was  gone. 

So  the  general  surprise  may  be  imagined  when,  in  a 
solemnly-appointed  interview  with  Mrs.  Campbell,  she  an 
nounced  that  if  "Missy"  had  no  objection,  she,  Pareen, 
and  Cudjoe  would  sail  for  "de  States"  when  the  family 
did! 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  327 

Mrs.  Campbell,  thinking  that  she  did  not  comprehend  the 
financial  side  of  this  proposal,  began  gently  to  explain  it  to 
her,  but  Hagar  cut  the  explanation  short  with — 

"  A  knows  all  dat,  Missy.  De  money  all  ready,  if  Mass' 
Leonard  be  so  kind  as  'tend  to  buyin'  de  tickets — Cudjoe  don' 
know  de  place ! " 

"But  are  you  sure  you  have  enough  ?  It  takes  a  great 
deal,  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  still  doubtful,  and  very 
much  surprised  as  well. 

Hagar  silently  drew  from  the  bosom  of  her  gown  a  large, 
well-worn  pocket-book,  which  Mrs.  Campbell  at  once  recog 
nized  ;  her  husband  had  given  it  to  Glasgow,  years  before. 
Opening  the  book,  Hagar  counted  the  contents,  and  Mrs. 
Campbell  found,  to  her  astonishment,  that  there  was  nearly 
twice  the  amount  needed  for  the  buying  of  the  three  second- 
class  tickets. 

"  But,  Hagar,"  she  said,  "  do  you  really  wish  to  go  ?  You 
are  no  longer  young,  and  the  change  of  climate,  and  in  fact, 
everything,  will  be  very  great.  You  have  a  sister  and  brother 
here,  too — can  you  leave  them,  never  perhaps  to  see  them 
again  in  this  world  ?  " 

The  usual  stolid  expression  of  Hagar's  face  was  shaken, 
for  a  moment,  by  a  convulsive  twitching  of  the  muscles.  She, 
too,  was  keeping  green  the  grave  of  the  one  she  loved  best. 
But  she  only  said,  with  the  sort  of  dogged  resolution  which 
had  characterized  all  her  words  and  actions,  since  her  hus 
band's  death : 

"  If  Missy  don'  want  us,  she  please  say  so  plain  out,  and 
we  stay,  but  if  she  want  us,  den  we  go.  When  Glasgow  say 
good-bye,  he  tell  me,  '  Stick  fast  to  Missy  and  Massa,  and 
dere  chillen,  Hagar,'  and  a  mus'  do  what  Glasgow  tell  me, 
unless  Missy  say  not." 

"  But  do  you  really  wish  to  go,  Hagar,"  asked  Mrs.  Camp 
bell,  perplexed,  as  she  so  often  was,  by  the  inconsistency  of 


328  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Hagar's  actions  with  her  manner,  "or  are  yon  doing  this 
only  because  you  think  Glasgow  would  wish  you  to  ?  " 

"What  Glasgow  wish  was  always  'nuff  for  me,  Missy," 
said  Hagar,  evading  the  question.  "He  know  best.  He 
always  say,  <  De  clrillen  have  a  chance,  in  de  States,  laike 
dey  don'  have  heah,  so  if  Missy  want  to  go  dere,  dat  all  right 
—you  tek  de  chillen,  and  go  too,  if  a  not  heah.'  Missy 
please  not  ask  me  any  ting  moah.  A  be  true  to  her  and 
hers,  she  needn't  be  'fraid;  a  caint  talk  like  Glasgow,  but  a 
mean  what  Glasgow  mean,  all  de  same.  Will  Missy  beliebe 
dat?" 

Hagar's  large,  solemn  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Mrs.  Camp 
bell's  face,  with  the  wistful  look  so  often  seen  in  the  eyes  of 
a  dumb  animal.  It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Campbell  that  she  had 
never  before  sounded  the  depths  of  this  strange,  silent 
woman's  nature.  She  grasped  the  hard,  black  hand,  and 
with  tears  shining  in  her  eyes,  said  earnestly: 

"I  will— I  do  believe  it,  dear  Hagar.  You  shall  come 
with  ns,  although  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  that  you  must 
take  your  own  money  to  do  so,  but  Glasgow  was  quite  right 
about  the  children — they  will  have  chances  there  that  they 
could  never  have  here,  and  I  know  they  will  improve  their 
chances,  for  they  are  good  and  faithful.  You  and  I,  who 
have  lived  our  lives,  must  live  again  now  in  and  for  our 
children.  It  will  be  hard  to  leave  those  graves  to  the  care  of 
strangers,  but  they  shall  be  cared  for,  Hagar,  you  may  be 
very  sure  of  that— I  shall  arrange  for  it  before  I  go.  Glas 
gow  was  too  faithful  a  servant  in  life  to  be  forgotten  in 
death." 

Hagar  pressed  a  fervent  kiss  upon  the  slender  hand  which 
held  her  own,  and,  as  she  did  so,  one  large,  slow-falling  tear 
rested  beside  the  kiss.  She  did  not  speak,  but  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  felt  sure  that  the  allegiance,  given  hitherto  largely  for 
Glasgow's  sake,  would  henceforth  be  given  more  largely  from 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  329 

loving  gratitude.  The  most  tender  and  scrupulous  care  had 
been  lavished  upon  Glasgow's  grave  by  his  widow  and  chil 
dren,  and  Hagar's  chief  regret,  when  she  resolved  to  leave 
the  Island  with  her  mistress,  had  been  for  the  neglect  with 
which  she  feared  it  would  be  treated,  if  not  at  once,  in  a  very 
short  time,  for  she  was  naturally  of  anything  but  a  trusting 
or  confiding  disposition,  and  although  she  had  meant  to  leave 
all  the  provision  within  her  power  for  the  continued  care  of 
the  grave,  she  had  not  much  faith  that  her  wishes  would  be 
long  regarded,  while  Mrs.  Campbell,  having  friends  upon 
the  Island  who  could  see  that  her  directions  were  not  neg 
lected,  could  be  relied  upon  for  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise 
so  solemnly  made. 

Pareen  and  Cudjoe  were  wild  with  delight  when  they 
heard  what  was  before  them.  They  had  both  inherited  their 
father's  good  sense  and  steadfastness  of  character,  and  had 
grieved  bitterly  at  the  impending  separation,  for  they  had 
never  forgotten  Glasgow's  wish  that  they  should  continue 
faithfully  to  serve  Mr.  Campbell's  family.  Before  Hagar 
revealed  her  intention  to  Mrs.  Campbell,  the  latter  had 
spoken  of  her  anxiety  concerning  these  three  faithful  servants 
to  Mrs.  Santon,  who  had  readily  agreed  to  take  them  into 
her  own  service,  and  was  quite  disappointed  when  she  learned 
that  this  would  not  be  necessary,  although  she  rejoiced,  for 
Mrs.  Campbell's  sake,  that  they  were  going.  None  of  them, 
excepting  Leonard,  realized  how  great  was  the  difference 
between  the  domestic  arrangements  in  the  Island  and  those 
in  the  United  States,  where  two,  or  at  the  most  three,  serv 
ants  were  expected  to  perform  all  the  household  work  required 
by  people  in  moderate  circumstances,  while  many  families 
lived  in  comfort  with  the  help  of  only  one.  But  Leonard 
knew  that,  should  it  not  be  possible  for  Ilagar  and  her  two 
children  to  live  with  his  aunt,  they  wrould  have  no  diffi 
culty  in  finding  employment,  with  such  recommendations 


330  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

as  would  be  given  them,  and  he  also  knew  how  great  would 
be  the  comfort  to  his  aunt  and  cousins  on  the  voyage,  and 
on  their  first  landing  in  a  strange  country,  to  have  these 
familiar  faces  about  them,  so  he  said  nothing  to  discourage 
the  plan.  Doris  and  her  two  partners  in  business  had  sev 
eral  discussions  as  to  what  had  better  be  done  with  the 
"  goodwill  and  fixtures."  It  did  not  seem  probable  that  any 
one  would  offer  to  buy  them  out,  and  they  knew  of  no  one 
to  whom  they  could  leave  the  business.  If  they  could  have 
made  some  arrangement  by  which  it  might  be  carried  on 
by  an  agent,  so  that  they  might  continue  to  profit  by  it, 
they  would  have  been  very  glad,  but  neither  of  them  could 
think  of  any  suitable  person.  It  seemed  a  great  pity  to  let 
it  fall  to  the  ground  when  it  was  growing  more  profitable  all 
the  time,  and  they  postponed  writing  to  their  different  cus 
tomers,  hoping  to  find  either  a  purchaser  or  an  agent,  but 
agreeing  that  if  neither  had  appeared  two  weeks  before  the 
time  fixed  for  their  sailing,  they  could  then  delay  no  longer. 
Clara,  indeed,  thought  they  ought  not  to  wait  so  long,  fear 
ing  they  would  cause  inconvenience  to  the  merchants  who 
were  now  in  the  habit  of  depending  on  them,  but  both  Doris 
and  Jane  laughingly  declared  they  had  a  "feeling  sense" 
that,  from  some  unexpected  quarter,  either  an  agent  or  a 
purchaser  would  appear. 

"Since  your  feeling  sense  goes  so  far,  does  it  not  tell  you 
which?"  inquired  Clara. 

But  they  assured  her  that  she  expected  quite  too  much 
of  a  presentiment,  which  must  necessarily  be  vague,  and 
still  insisted  upon  waiting  till  the  appointed  time.  It  lacked 
but  a  day  or  two  of  it,  and  they  were  beginning  to  admit 
that  presentiments  sometimes  "missed  fire,"  when  a  note 
from  Grace  Lilienthal  equally  surprised  and  delighted  them. 
It  ran  thus : 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  331 

"  MY  DEAR  DORIS  AND  JEANIE  AND  CLARA  : 

"  Sara  and   I   are  so  very,  very  sorry  you  are  all  going 
away,  for,  although  we  do  not  meet  you  very  often,  we  do 
sometimes,  and  now  we  never  shall,  and  your  going  takes 
off  more  than  half  of  the  seven.     But  what  I  wish  to  write 
about  is  this:  you  know  Miss  Anna  wished  us  all  to  really 
work  at  something,  and  since  the  slaves  are  free  we  can  find 
less  and  less  to  do  for  them,  and  we  really  have  a  great  deal 
of  spare  time.     So  when  we  heard  you  were  going  away, 
and  must  give  up  your  business  at  the  old  sugar-house,  we 
asked  papa  and  mamma  if  we  might  buy  all  the  things, 
and  try  to  go  on  with  it  as  you  were  doing,  although,  of 
course,  we  should  not  do  so  well  just  at  first,  and  perhaps  not 
at  all,  because  we   know  nothing  about  it.     But  it  would 
keep  us  busy,  and  perhaps  we  should  make  some  money  of 
our  very  own,  to  give  away  just  as  we  liked ;  which  would  be 
delightful,  for,  after  all,  what  we  give  away  now  is  papa's, 
and  not  ours.     And  then  we  thought  perhaps  some  of  the 
younger  negroes  might  be  trained  to  go  into  business  of  the 
same  sort,  and  so  made  useful  and  contented — so  many  of 
them  are  troublesome  now.     So  will  you  please  tell  us  what 
we  ought  to  pay  for  everything,  just  as  it  stands  ?     Papa 
says  you   must  not   say  too   little,  for  that  such   a  well- 
established  business   is  worth  a  good   deal.     And  if  you 
do  not  mind,  I  wish  you  would  tell  us  what  you  pay  the 
people  who  work  for  you,  and  what  rent  we  ought  to  offer 
Christine  for  the  sugar-house,  and  anything  else  we  shall 
need  to  know  and  cannot  find  out  for  ourselves.    We  hate  to 
bother  you  just  now,  when  you  are  so  busy,  but  it  seems  as 
if  we  must  a  little,  or  we  cannot  take  the  business.     At  first 
papa  and  mamma  were  very  much  opposed  to  our  undertaking 
it;  papa  in  particular  said  it  would  be  time  enough  if  things 
grew  worse  in  the  Island,  and  we  came  really  to  need  the 
money.    But  we  coaxed  them,  and  told  them  all  the  things 


332  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

we  could  remember  that  Miss  Anna  had  said  about  girls 
working,  and  not  being  just  drones  to  be  taken  care  of  all 
their  lives,  and  after  awhile,  when  they  saw  how  much  we 
wanted  to  try  it,  they  consented,  but  only  for  a  year; 
then  they  are  to  decide  again  whether  or  not  we  may  keep 
on,  but  I  am  pretty  sure  they  will  let  us  if  we  only  suc 
ceed,  as  I  hope  we  shall  before  the  year  is  over.  I  will  not 
write  any  more  now,  for  I  know  you  are  busy.  Please  an 
swer  as  soon  as  you  can,  for  we  are  a  little  afraid  some  one 
else  may  have  offered,  and  we  should  be  so  disappointed  to 
lose  it  now,  when  we  were  obliged  to  coax  and  beg  so  hard 
for  it.  With  a  great  deal  of  love  from  both  of  us  to  all  of 
you,  I  am,  very  affectionately,  }Tours, 

"GKACE  LlLIENTIIAL." 

The  girls  smiled,  as  they  read  it  over  each  other's  shoul 
ders,  at  the  honest,  artless  wording  of  the  letter,  noticing 
how  Grace  said  "we"  almost  always  in  place  of  "I,"  and 
how  little  her  round,  girlish  handwriting  had  changed,  since 
they  went  to  school  together.  They  were  greatly  rejoiced 
with  the  offer,  and  with  the  knowledge  that  the  business 
would  still  be  carried  on,  for  they  employed  now  a  number 
of  women  and  girls,  who  were  learning  much  beside  neat 
and  workmanlike  habits. 

Doris  wrote  a  cordial  reply  in  the  name  of  "the  firm," 
after  they  had  consulted  with  Leonard,  Dr.  Svensen,  and 
Christine,  and  to  this  came  an  immediate  response,  enclosing 
a  check  for  the  amount  named,  and  thanking  the  girls 
warmly  for  their  suggestion  that  the  new  owners  should  take 
possession  at  once,  and  learn  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
old  ones,  while  they  were  still  in  the  Island.  This  was  done, 
and  by  the  time  "the  firm"  took  its  final  departure,  things 
were  running  smoothly  under  the  new  administration. 

All  three  of  the  girls,  but  particularly  Jane,  were  surprised 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  333 

by  the  energy  and  business  talent  which  Grace  and  Sara  dis 
played.  They  made  no  pretence  to  intellectual  ability,  but 
their  minds  were  clear  and  orderly,  and  they  gave  the  whole 
of  them  to  whatever  they  undertook. 

"I  wish  Miss  Anna  could  see  how  the  good  seed  she  sowed 
has  flourished,"  said  Doris  to  Jane,  one  day  when  they  had 
together  been  initiating  Grace  and  Sara  into  the  mysteries 
of  jelly-making.  "  Do  you  remember,  Jeanie,  when  we  first 
began  to  go  to  school  to  her,  how  we  used  to  smile  in  a 
superior  manner  at  these  two  dear,  good,  useful  girls,  until 
she  brought  out  the  fine  contrast  between  their  efficiency 
and  our  inefficiency  ?  " 

"I  am  not  likely  ever  to  forget  it,"  said  Jane,  the  quick 
color  springing  to  her  face  as  she  spoke;  "my  cheeks  burn 
yet  whenever  I  think  of  those  self-sufficient  days,  before  she 
helped  me  to  find  my  real  level.  But,  Doris,  I  somehow 
always  feel  about  Miss  Anna  as  if  it  does  not  matter  at  all 
whether  or  not  she  ever  finds  out,  in  this  world,  about  all 
the  good  she  has  done.  In  fact,  it  seems  to  me  sometimes 
that  it  will  be  all  the  more  beautiful  for  her  to  know  little 
or  nothing  about  it  until  she  gets  to  Heaven — just  think 
what  it  will  be  then !  It  would  not  do  for  everybody — most 
of  us  are  discouraged  if  we  don't  see  the  result  of  what  we 
have  done,  or  at  least  some  result,  almost  immediately — but 
a  grand,  strong  nature  like  Miss  Anna's  can  keep  right  on, 
all  the  same,  in  storm  or  sunshine,  and  be  satisfied  just  to  do 
right,  and  leave  all  question  of  results  with  God.  I  think 
that  is  one  thing  that  keeps  her  always  so  bright  and  cheer 
ful—her  only  anxiety  is  to  do  her  part ;  she  has  none  about 
the  rest." 

"  Ah,"  said  Doris,  sighing  as  she  spoke,  "when  I  see  peo 
ple  walking  <on  the  heights,'  it  makes  me  feel  how  far  down 
I  am,  and  I  wonder  if  they,  too,  began  at  the  very  foot  of 
the  mountain,  or  if  some  natural  advantage  placed  them 


334  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

half-way  up  at  the  start,  and  so  made  it  easier  for  them  to 
climb." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Jane,  "  and  what  is  more,  I  do  not 
suppose  we  were  meant  to  know ;  but  what  we  can  all  be 
certain  of  is,  that  no  matter  how  weak  and  unable  we  are  in 
ourselves,  we  may  all  be  made  strong  with  an  invincible 
Strength,  if  we  only  will." 

As,  one  after  another,  the  ties  which  bound  her  to  her 
lifelong  home  were  sundered,  Doris  kept  thinking,  "This  is 
the  hardest  to  bear;"  but  when  the  time  came  for  her  final 
parting  with  Antoinette,  she  felt  that  this  was  indeed  the 
most  cruel  wrench  of  all.  For  the  friendship  between  them 
was  very  deep  and  true  and  tender,  and  as  Doris  looked  at 
the  pale,  saintly  face  and  fragile  little  form,  she  knew  only 
too  well  that  in  this  world  they  would  never  meet  again. 
Not  many  words  were  said.  Doris  promised  to  write  very 
often,  and  implored  Antoinette  to  let  her  mother  write  for 
her,  whenever  she  should  feel  able  to  dictate,  and  this  Mrs. 
San  ton  willingly  undertook  to  do. 

Doris  pressed  kiss  after  kiss  on  the  face  she  was  never 
more  to  see,  until  she  should  see  it  glorified  and  freed  from 
every  trace  of  pain  and  death.  By  a  violent  effort,  she  re 
pressed  her  sobs  for  Antoinette's  sake,  but  she  cried  quietly 
all  the  way  home,  and  was  so  pale  and  spiritless  that  evening 
that  her  mother  and  Leonard,  who  were  watching  her  anx 
iously,  and  fearing  that  the  long  strain  upon  her  energies 
was  telling  seriously  at  last,  were  doubly  glad  of  a  diversion 
which  occurred  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

Cudjoe  had  been  sent  upon  an  errand  to  a  distant  planta 
tion,  and  had  ridden  one  of  the  work-horses.  He  was  gone 
so  much  longer  than  Leonard  thought  necessary,  and  this 
was  a  proceeding  so  different  from  his  usual  prompt  and 
orderly  habits,  that  Mrs.  Campbell  was  becoming  seriously 
uneasy,  when  he  at  last  appeared,  riding  even  more  slowly 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  335 

than  the  ago  and  infirmity  of  his  steed  compelled  him  to 
ordinarily,  and  leading  by  a  rough  rope  a  much  smaller  and 
sorrier-looking  horse,  which  limped  painfully  with  every 
step.  Doris  happened  to  be  within  the  house,  and  so  did 
not  see  the  arrival,  and  Cudjoe,  in  a  few  hurried  words, 
begged  Mrs.  Campbell  to  let  him  go  at  once  to  the  stable, 
and  explain  his  delay  and  his  acquisition  afterward. 

She  trusted  him  so  entirely  that  she  immediately  granted 
his  request,  and  in  about  an  hour  he  came  smiling  to  the 
door,  and  begged  that  she  and  Miss  Doris  would  come  with 
him  to  the  side  door.  They  went,  wondering,  and  there 
stood  one  of  the  other  "boys,"  holding  by  the  bridle  the 
poor  little  strange  horse. 

But  a  good  supper,  and  a  thorough  combing  and  brush 
ing,  had  worked  a  transformation,  and  Doris,  crying: 
"Dirck!  Oh,  it's  my  dear  little  Dirck!"  sprang  forward 
and  threw  her  arms  around  the  pony's  neck.  He  gave  a 
low  whinny,  which  little  Theo  declared  was  a  laugh,  and 
rubbed  his  soft  nose  against  Doris's  cheek  ;  and  while  she 
laughed  and  cried,  and  showered  caresses  upon  him,  Theo 
flew  for  bread  and  sugar,  and  Dirck  feasted  royally,  express 
ing  his  joy  from  time  to  time  in  the  most  unmistakable 
manner.  Cudjoe  stood  by,  his  honest  face  one  broad  smile 
of  delight,  and  when  at  last  Doris  recovered  her  balance  suf 
ficiently  to  ask  for  an  explanation,  he  told  how,  riding  on  a 
lonely  road,  he  had  overtaken  a  negro  who  was  riding  Dirck, 
and  how  he  had  at  once  recognized  both  horse  and  rider. 
The  latter  was  a  worthless  fellow,  a  servant  at  one 'time  on 
Mrs.  San  ton's  plantation,  and  one  of  the  foremost  among  the 
natives  of  the  Island  to  take  part  in  the  riot.  He  lived,  with 
several  of  his  confederates,  wholly  by  trickery  and  stealing, 
and  they  had  a  sort  of  retreat  among  the  rocks  upon  the  sea 
shore.  He  professed  to  be  a  peddler  of  small  wares,  and, 
by  keeping  on  the  other  side  of  the  Island,  he  had  managed 


336  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

to  use  Dirck  without  being  detected,  until,  growing  bold 
from  this  long  immunity,  he  had  ventured  too  far,  and  the 
result  had  been  disastrous  to  him. 

"  But  how  did  you  get  Dirck  away  ?  "  inquired  Doris,  at 
last ;  "  did  the  wretch  give  him  up  willingly  ?  " 

Cudjoe's'  smile  threatened  to  meet  behind  his  ears  as  he 
replied : 

"He  didn't  seem  willing  just  at  first,  Missy  ;  but  when  I 
came  away  with  Dirck,  that  boy  was  lying  down  in  the  ditch, 
just  like  a  little  lamb,  and  he  never  offered  to  follow  me — we 
went  slow,  too,  because  Dirck  was  dead  lame." 

"But  I  hope  you  didn't  hurt  him  badly,"  said  Doris,  anx 
iously;  "he  must  be  very  wicked,  but  still " 

11  Missy  needn't  be  afraid,''  said  Cudjoe,  soothingly;  "it 
was  a  nice,  soft  place  where  he  fell,  and  I'll  undertake  that 
no  bones  was  broken — he  was  only  shook  up  pretty  well- 
not  half  as  well  as  he  deserved,  though,  and  I  'most  wish  I'd 
given  him  a  little  more." 

Doris  rode  her  recovered  pet  to  Christine  Larsen's  next 
morning,  going  very  slowly  and  carefully  out  of  consideration 
for  his  weakness — for  the  lameness  had  already  almost  yielded 
to  Cudjoe's  skillful  treatment — and  Christine  cheerfully  prom 
ised  to  give  him  a  home  until  Doris  could  afford  to  send  for 
him,  asserting  that  the  pleasure  of  riding  him  would  more 
than  pay  for  his  board.  Doris  had  been  greatly  troubled, 
not  so  much  by  his  loss  as  by  the  fear  that  he  was  being  ill- 
treated,  and  it  was  a  real  comfort  to  her  to  know  that  he  was 
at  last  safe  and  in  good  hands. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

last  day  had  come ;  to-morrow  they  were  to  sail, 
-L  and  "the  book  would  close  over"  on  one  chapter  of 
their  lives,  never  again  to  open  at  the  same  place.  It  was  a 
very  busy  day.  Last  items  of  packing,  last  arrangements 
about  the  house  and  plantation,  filled  the  time  of  both  the 
families,  and  left  little  room  in  their  minds  for  vain  regrets. 
Theo  flitted  about  the  house  like  a  spirit  of  light — "  never 
in  the  way  and  never  out  of  it,"  ready  to  take  a  message,  to 
run  on  an  errand,  to  help  with  anything  that  little  hands 
and  feet  could  do,  and  seeming  to  diffuse  a  brightness 
through  the  house  as  she  went. 

"  I  used  to  think  there  was  a  good  deal  of  luck  in  the  way 
children  turned  out,"  said  Leonard  to  Doris,  as  together 
they  packed  the  trunk  with  things  for  use  during  the  voy 
age;  "but  since  I've  seen  Aunt  Agnes  with  Theo,  I  know 
better!  I  don't  believe  aunt  has  ever  raised  her  voice,  or 
spoken  harshly  to  Theo  in  her  life,  and  yet  look  how  im 
plicitly  the  little  thing  minds  her,  and  how  unconsciously 
she  copies  aunt's  manner  of  speaking,  and  tries  to  do  the 
things  her  mother  does.  I'll  not  say  anything  about  you  to 
your  face,  mademoiselle,  but  I  can  tell  you,  you  don't  in  the 
least  contradict  my  newly-formed  theory,  either.  Two  girls 
more  opposite  in  natural  disposition  and  character  than  you 
and  Theo  are,  it  would  be  hard  to  find,  and  yet " 

"You'd  better  stop,"  said  Doris,  laughing  and  blushing; 

"  your  admiration  is  excited  by  the  manner  in  which  I  have 

made  four  go  into  two,  in  packing  this  trunk,  and  I  don't 

wonder;  I  have  developed  a  talent  for  packing  of  which  I 

15 


338  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

am  justly  proud;  but  you  mustn't  turn  my  poor  little  head 
with  flattery,  you  know  ! " 

"Doris,  you  are  a  goose!  When  you  are  old,  and  neg 
lected,  and  people  have  stopped  saying  pretty  things  to  you, 
how  remorsefully  you  will  think  of  the  snubs  you  have  ad 
ministered  to  me — and  of  course  to  countless  unfortunates 
beside!" 

"I  may  be  old,  but  I  don't  mean  to  be  neglected,  my 
dear." 

"And  how  will  you  carry  out  your  self-confident  meaning, 
pray  ?  " 

"By  not  neglecting  ad  interim.  There  is  much  con 
densed  wisdom  in  that  reply,  and  I  leave  you  to  crack  the 
nut  and  pick  it  out!  But,  Leonard,  talking  of  Thco,  there 
is  not  a  day  of  my  life  that  I  don't  feel  humiliated,  remem 
bering  the  miserable  envy  and  jealousy  with  which  I  regarded 
her  at  first,  and  now  she  is  the  very  sunshine  of  our  lives  ;  it 
seems  impossible  that  we  should  live  without  her.  Dear 
little  soul,  it  seems  to  me  that  she  never  has  a  selfish 
thought,  and  it  is  such  a  comfort  to  think  that,  whatever 
may  happen  to  her  on  her  way  through  life,  she  carries  her 
own  indestructible  happiness  with  her." 

"  Yes,"   said  Leonard — 

"  '  He  that  hath  light  within  his  own  clear  breast 
Can  sit  i'  the  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day,' 

you  know.  And  there's  another  of  my  exploded  fallacies ; 
in  my  ignorant  youth  I  fancied  that  people's  outside  cir 
cumstances  made  or  marred  their  happiness." 

"  But  you  never  acted  as  if  you  did,"  replied  Doris  ;  "I 
have  often  envied  you  your  make-the-best-of-the-worst  dis 
position,  and  wondered  whether  you  could  be  put  anywhere 
without  finding  some  good  in  the  situation." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am ! "  and  Leonard  made  a  courtly  bow. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  339 

"I  suppose  that  Roland  is  in  payment  for  my  Oliver.  But 
see !  even  you  can't  get  anything  more  into  this  trunk,  my 
dear.  Suppose  we  call  it  packed,  and  lock  it — there  are  a 
thousand  more  things,  more  or  less,  you  know,  waiting  to  be 
done." 

"  It  seems  like  more,  rather  than  less,"  said  Doris,  seating 
herself  on  the  trunk  by  way  of  persuading  it  to  be  locked  ; 
"and  I  am  so  haunted  by  a  fear  of  forgetting  some  very 
important  thing,  and  then  remembering  it  just  as  we  are 
off." 

"  Now,  Doris,  that  isn't  like  you,  and  you  must  not  give 
way  to  it!"  said  Leonard,  with  pretended  severity.  "If 
you  allow  yourself  to  get  flustered,  you  probably  will  forget 
something.  Just  go  quietly  ahead,  doing  things  as  they 
occur  to  you,  and  to-night,  i  when  a'  the  lave  are  slcepin',' 
Aunt  Agnes  and  you  and  I  will  take  a  quiet  think,  and  make 
memoranda — you  know  the  (  Hesperus '  does  not  sail  till 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  in  the 
morning  to  attend  to  anything  that  may  be  forgotten  to-day. 
We  have  things  very  well  in  hand — much  better  than  I 
feared  we  should—  and  we  can  afford  to  '  go  easy '  now.  So 
brace  up,  my  dear  ;  the  work  is  nearly  over,  and  it's  too  late 
to  begin  to  worry,  just  as  we  are  going  to  have  two  weeks  of 
moonlight  nights  and  sea  breezes  on  a  good  ship !  Think  of 
that  and  smile ! " 

Doris  did  smile,  but  rather  uncertainly,  as  she  said : 

"  I  suppose  I  am  a  little  tired,  and  that  makes  me  weak- 
minded!  I  will  take  a  fresh  start,  when  all  this  is  over, 
and  the  wrench  has  really  been  made — but  oh,  Leonard, 
Leonard,  I  never  dreamed  what  a  wrench  it  would  be  I 
Papa— 

And  the  words  ended  in  choking  sobs.  The  long  strain 
on  body  and  mind  was  telling  at  last,  and  Leonard,  full  of 
consternation  which  he  did  not  express,  put  his  arm  about 


340  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

Doris,  and  let  her  sob  on  his  shoulder,  stroking  her  hair  as 
gently  as  her  mother  would  have  done,  and  murmuring 
apologies  for  his  " bearishness."  But  the  "good  cry,"  re 
pressed  for  days,  was  a  moral  thunder-shower,  and  cleared 
the  air  in  a  manner  which  increased  Leonard's  perplexity  as 
to  the  "ways"  of  girls.  She  was  quietly  cheerful  all  the 
rest  of  the  day,  and  even  laughed  a  little  at  Leonard's  look 
of  alarm  at  her  unwonted  display  of  emotion. 

"  See  what  a  sensation  one  can  make,  by  only  crying  once 
in  a  long  while  !  "  she  said.  "  If  women  only  realized  that, 
how  careful  they  would  be,  for  everyday  crying  very  soon 
ceases  to  attract  any  attention  !  " 

But  Leonard  knew  how  deep  was  the  feeling  which  under 
lay  her  cheerfulness,  and  strove  to  save  and  spare  her  in 
every  possible  way.  Pareen  was  like  her  shadow,  and  the 
intelligent,  as  well  as  affectionate  help  which  she  and  Cudjoe 
gave  was  invaluable,  while  Hagar,  grimly  silent,  and  with  a 
look  of  stolid  endurance  upon  her  dark  face,  assumed  the 
heaviest  tasks,  pushing  Pareen  aside,  not  a  little  roughly, 
sometimes,  to  do  so.  By  evening  all  was  in  readiness,  save 
the  very  few  things  which  must  be  left  till  the  last,  and  the 
short  twilight  found  the  tired  family  gathered  on  the  narrow 
wooden  veranda  which  was  the  only  substitute  for  the  old 
stone  piazza.  Mrs.  Campbell  had  submitted  to  the  loving 
commands  laid  upon  her,  and  had  done  only  such  light 
tasks  as  she  might  safely  undertake,  knowing  how  greatly 
even  a  slight  illness  would  add  to  the  trouble  and  care  of 
those  she  loved  best.  But,  weak  and  delicate  as  she  was, 
even  the  little  she  had  done  had  wearied  her,  added  to  the 
effort  she  was  making  to  remain  tranquil,  not  only  "out 
wardly  in  the  body,"  but  "inwardly  in  the  soul "  as  well. 

For  awhile  they  sat  in  silence,  watching  the  quick  oncom 
ing  of  darkness  peculiar  to  the  tropics,  and  the  slender  new 
moon  sinking  in  the  west,  where  a  pale  yellow  light  still 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  341 

faintly  lingered.  It  was  a  warm  night,  with  but  little  air 
stirring,  and  it  seemed  to  them  all  to  be  heavy  and  oppres 
sive.  Leonard  at  last  broke  the  silence  by  saying : 

"Aunt  Agnes,  if  Doris  and  I  each  give  you  an  arm,  can 
not  you  come  to  the  stone  piazza  ?  There  is  always  more 
breeze  there  than  anywhere  else,  and  I  carried  some  chairs 
over  just  before  dark.  I  thought  that,  just  for  the  last 
night,  we  might  sit  there  and  ( make  believe/  as  Theo  says. 
Will  you  come  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  will,  dear;  I  was  about  to  propose  it,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Campbell;  "but  I.  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you 
'make  believe'  ;  the  changes  press  too  heavily  for  that,  to 
night.  We  can  do  something  better,  though;  we  can 
bravely  face  things  as  they  are,  and  resolve  to  be  strong  and 
of  a  good  courage,  And  Doris,  dear,  there  is  something  I 
want  you  to  do  ;  after  a  little  while,  call  all  the  servants  who 
care  to  come,  and  we  will  sing  some  hymns,  and  pray  once 
more,  together,  as  we  did  in  your  dear  father's  lifetime.  I 
would  like  them  to  have  it  to  remember — I  have  been  able 
to  do  so  sadly  little  for  them  of  late." 

"Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  are  equal  to  it,  mamma — 
that  it  will  not  be  too  much  for  you?"  asked  Doris, 
anxiously. 

"  Yes,  darling,"  replied  her  mother ;  "  it  will  be  a  com 
fort,"  and  Doris  remonstrated  no  more. 

The  servants  all  came.  Even  the  most  unruly  and  un 
satisfactory  among  them  had  a  sort  of  superstitious  rever 
ence  for  Mrs.  Campbell,  and,  having  been  for  the  past  day  or 
two  in  the  hands  of  the  agent  who  was  to  work  the  estate 
for  the  coming  year,  they  were  already  regretting  the  change, 
and  extolling  Leonard's  mode  of  government.  The  Lord's 
Prayer  was  said  ;  two  or  three  well-known  hymns  were  sung, 
and  Mrs.  Campbell  bade  them  good-bye  in  a  few  kind  words, 


34-2  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

begging  them  to  be  faithful  to  their  new  employers,  and  not 
to  listen  to  the  bad  advice  of  idle  and  worthless  men. 

"  One  is  our  Master,"  she  said,  "  even  Christ.  Let  all 
your  work  be  done  in  His  name,  for  His  sake,  and  you  can 
not  go  astray.  Good-bye,  and  may  God  bless  you  all,  and 
grant  that  we  may  all  meet  at  last  in  His  everlasting  king 
dom." 

The  negroes,  always  easily  excited,  crowded  about  her, 
with  tears  and  blessings  and  good-byes,  until  Doris  was 
obliged  gently  to  disperse  them,  fearing  injury  to  her 
mother.  It  was  a  scene  she  never  forgot;  her  eyes,  grown 
accustomed  to  the  soft  semi-darkness,  lighted  by  the  glory 
of  the  stars,  could  easily  distinguish  the  faces  in  the  group, 
as  they  clustered  about  Mrs.  Campbell's  chair.  Sobs  and 
broken  ejaculations  came  from  all  sides,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  her  mother's  pure,  calm  face,  in  the  midst  of  the  excited 
group,  was  "as  the  face  of  an  angel." 

It  was  over  at  last,  and  Doris  helped  her  mother  back  to 
the  house,  and  then  to  make  ready  for  bed,  thankful  to  see 
her  fall  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  her  head  touched  the  pillow. 
She  herself  expected  to  lie  long  awake,  haunted  by  throng 
ing  thoughts  and  memories,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
had  only  just  settled  herself  comfortably  in  bed,  when  she 
heard  Pareen's  gentle  voice  saying  deprecatingly — 

"  Missy  told  me  not  to  call  her  later  than  five,  and  it's  just 
struck." 

Doris  rose  wearily,  feeling  only  half  rested,  but  the  cool 
bath  and  cup  of  savory  coffee  awaiting  her  seemed  to  supply 
the  other  half,  and  she  was  ready  to  meet  her  mother  cheer 
fully,  and  begin  the  last,  most  trying  hours  with  courage. 
What  she  dreaded  most,  not  only  for  herself,  but  for  her 
mother  and  Theo,  was  the  parting  from  "  Nana,"  Lois.  The 
child  was  passionately  fond  of  her  nurse,  and  yet,  it  seemed 
to  Doris,  this  love  was  nothing  to  that  which  the  nurse  felt 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  343 

for  the  nursling  whose  life  she  had  fostered  and  saved.     It 
was  impossible  that  Lois  should  go ;  she  was  old,  in  feeble 
health,  and  quite  unable  to  pay  her  passage.     She  lived  with 
a  married  daughter,  who  took  very  good  care  of  her,  and 
who,  while  she  could  afford  to  give  her  old  mother  a  com 
fortable  home,  would  have  found  it  impossible  to  pay  her 
passage  to  the  United  States,  had  all  other  conditions  been 
favorable.     Nothing  had  been  said  to  Theo  upon  the  sub 
ject,  but  Lois,  in  discussing  it  with  Mrs.  Campbell,  had  ad 
mitted,  with  streaming  tears,  how  utterly  impossible  it  was 
that  she  should  go,  only  begging  that  she  might  be  allowed 
to  see  them  on  board  the  ship,  so  that  she  could  the  better 
fancy  how  her  "  picaninny  "  was  lodged  and  cared  for  dur 
ing  the  voyage.     Mrs.  Campbell  and  Doris  both  thought  this 
unwise,  but  they  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse,  and  so  Lois 
appeared  soon  after  the  eight  o'clock  breakfast  in  clean  ging 
ham  gown,  spotless  white  apron,  and  gay  Madras  handker 
chief  wound  high  on  her  head,  and  finished  off  at  the  side 
with  a  knot,  in  a  manner  known  only  to  negroes  of  a  past 
day  and  generation. 

The  day  passed  only  too  quickly.  They  were  to  be  on 
board  by  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  it  seemed  to 
Doris  that  the  hours  fairly  flew.  Many  of  their  friends, 
knowing  how  fully  occupied  these  last  hours  would  be,  had 
agreed  to  meet  at  the  wharf,  and  see  the  departing  voyagers 
on  board  the  "Hesperus."  Doris  longed,  now  that  the 
time  was  indeed  come,  for  all  to  be  over -for  the  quiet  and 
seclusion  of  the  ship,  after  the  bustle  of  departure,  and 
the  agitation  of  the  past  few  days.  She,  with  her  mother, 
Leonard,  and  little  Theo,  had  gone  "very  early  in  the  morn 
ing"  to  place  their  last  offering  of  flowers  on  the  grave  for 
which  others  must  now  care;  and  Doris  had  gone  thence 
.with  a  wreath  and  cross  for  Glasgow's  grave  as  well,  to  find 
Uagar  prostrate  beside  it,  shaken  with  bitter  sobbing.  Doris 


344  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

said  nothing;  she  laid  her  tribute  on  the  earth  which  cov 
ered  the  body  of  the  faithful  servant,  and  then,  pressing  her 
hand  gently  for  a  moment  on  the  bowed  head,  she  glided 
softly  away.  Hagar  never  alluded  in  words  to  this  meeting, 
or  to  Doris's  acts  of  loving  remembrance,  but  many  things 
afterward  proved  that  it  was  unforgotten. 

Doris  was  thankful  for  an  unforeseen  delay  in  some  of 
their  arrangements,  which  made  their  departure  a  little 
anxious  and  hurried.  She  would  not  allow  herself  to  think, 
but,  involuntarily,  as  they  drove  away,  they  all  turned  for  a 
last  look  at  the  stone  piazza,  the  sole  tangible  remnant  of 
the  happy,  dearly-loved  home.  Mrs.  Campbell  was  very 
pale,  but  perfectly  quiet  and  composed.  Little  Theo's  face 
worked  with  the  valiant  struggle  she  was  making  for  her 
mother's  sake.  She  had  come  to  Doris  that  morning, 
saying : 

"  Sister,  dear,  I  want  to  make  you  a  promise — I  promise 
you  not  to  cry  when  we  drive  away  to-day,  for  I  can  do  it 
afterward,  in  some  nice  little  place  on  the  ship,  where  it  will 
not  hurt  anybody.  Now  I  promise,  solemnly  and  truly,  I 
will  not  cry  in  the  carriage  to-day !" 

"I  am  very  glad  you  will  not,  darling,"  replied  Doris, 
taking  her  little  sister  in  her  arms  as  she  spoke  ;  "  but  will 
you  tell  me,  if  you  don't  mind,  why  you  wished  to  promise 
me,  instead  of  just  resolving  to  yourself  that  you  would 
not?" 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you  anything — now,"  said  the  child, 
nestling  closer,  and  softly  stroking  her  sister's  face.  "  It  was 
because  it  somehow  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  less  hard 
to  keep  a  promise,  made  quite  aloud  to  somebody  else,  than 
to  keep  a  resolution  made  all  to  myself.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  it  seems  to  make  it  more  certain  to  say  it." 

"I  know,"  said  Doris;  "I  have  often  felt  just  that  way, 
and  made  a  promise  to  mamma,  for  that  very  reason.  Now 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  345 

we  must  go  on  being  busy — but,  darling,  we  will  not  be  too 
busy  to  say  a  little  prayer  in  our  hearts  often,  that  we  may 
be  helped  over  this  hard  place  in  our  lives." 

"I  do,"  she  said,  softly;  "oh,  sister,  how  could  we  man 
age  at  all,  if  we  mightn't  do  that  ?" 

With  a  fervent  kiss  on  the  pure,  sweet  little  face,  Doris 
sprang  up,  unable  to  trust  herself  to  say  more;  but  the 
child's  words  stayed  with  her  all  day,  and  gave  her  a  curious 
sense  of  nearness  to  the  Power  in  which  even  the  weakest  of 
us  can  "  do  all  things."  And  through  her  mind,  like  a  sweet 
cadence  of  song,  went  the  words  :  "  For  I  say  unto  you,  that 
in  Heaven  their  angels  do  always  behold  the  face  of  my 
Father." 

Doris  understood  the  quick,  appealing  look  given  her  by 
her  little  sister,  as  the  carriage  turned,  and  the  very  trees 
which  once  stood  about  the  dear  home  were  hidden  from 
view,  and  she  quietly  took  into  her  own  the  little  cold  hands 
which  were  pressed  so  tightly  together.  At  the  wharf, 
many  dear  and  familiar  faces  awaited  them.  Mrs.  Santon, 
Christine,  Grace  and  Sara,  Dr.  Svensen  and  his  daughter, 
all  clustered  about  them  as  they  left  the  carriage,  and  went 
with  them  on  board  the  vessel,  which,  beautifully  clean  and 
marred  by  no  black  smoke-stack  between  the  tall  masts, 
seemed  to  little  Theo  like  a  fairy  palace.  Other  friends  and 
acquaintances  besides  those  just  mentioned  were  there,  and 
flowers,  fruit,  and  many  small  comforts  and  conveniences 
for  the  voyage,  offerings  made  with  warm  and  true  affection, 
crowded  their  state-rooms  and  the  table  in  the  cabin. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrett  had  been  on  board  for  half  an  hour, 
and  were  still  busy  bestowing  their  belongings  to  the  best 
advantage  in  the  small  compass  which  must  hold  so  much. 
This  would  be  their  home  for  two  weeks,  or  but  little  less, 
and  it  was  worth  while  to  take  some  pains  at  the  beginning 
to  make  themselves  as  comfortable  as  possible  in  it.  The 


346  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

sight  of  their  cheerful,  hopeful  faces  was  very  pleasant,  and 
seemed  at  once  to  lessen  the  strain  upon  the  feelings  of  the 
other  family. 

A  younger  sister  of  Jane  and  Clara,  little  Helen  Barrett, 
took  instant  possession  of  Theo;  she  was  a  round-faced, 
merry  child  of  six  or  seven  years  old,  honest  and  warm 
hearted,  with  a  good,  ordinary,  active  mind,  devotedly  fond 
of  Theo,  who  returned  her  love  with  a  gentle  courtesy  and 
kindness,  rather  than  an  equal  warmth,  for  to  Theo  it  was 
always  a  painful  thing,  as  well  as  a  very  strange  one,  that 
Helen  cared  so  little  for  books  and  so  much  for  rather  noisy 
plays.  But  now  Doris  was  pleased  to  see  the  warmth  with 
which  Theo  met  her  little  friend,  and  quite  understood  it; 
any  fragment  of  the  dearly-loved  life  she  was  leaving,  any 
thing  even  which  reminded  her  of  it,  would  henceforth  be 
dear  to  the  heart  of  the  sensitive  child. 

It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Campbell  and  her  children  that  they  had 
been  on  board  the  vessel  but  a  little  while,  when  the  signal 
was  given  for  all  who  were  not  passengers  to  go  ashore.  Dr. 
Svensen,  with  tears  of  which  he  was  in  nowise  ashamed 
streaming  -down  his  honest,  rosy  face,  took  each  one  of  them 
in  turn  in  a  fervent  hug,  and  then,  unable  to  speak,  went 
so  suddenly  over  the  side  of  the  vessel  and  down  the  ladder, 
that  a  number  of  people  rushed  to  the  side,  thinking  he  had 
fallen  overboard.  His  daughter,  all  her  primness  dispelled, 
and  her  bright,  blue  eyes  dim  with  tears,  turned  once  more, 
when  she  had  bade  them  all  good-bye,  to  press  little  Theo 
again  to  her  heart  and  beg  Doris,  in  piteous  tones,  to  write 
at  once  when  they  had  safely  reached  "  that  dreadful,  far-off 
place."  One  by  one  "  the  old  familiar  faces "  disappeared 
over  the  ship's  side.  Lois  had  stood  silently  by;  Doris  had 
gently  begged  her  not  to  agitate  Mrs.  Campbell,  and  the 
poor  creature  had  so  far  succeeded  in  keeping  still;  but 
when  she  found  that  the  time  had  come  when  she  must  part 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  347 

from  her  nursling  never  more  to  meet  her  in  this  life,  all 
her  self-control  gave  way.  She  threw  her  arms  above  her 
head  with  a  wild  cry  of  despair,  and  then  clasped  Theo  to 
her  heart,  as  if  never  to  let  her  go  again.  The  child,  worn 
out  with  excitement  and  the  effort  she  had  made  to  subdue 
and  conceal  her  feelings,  sobbed  piteously,  and  at  last  almost 
screamed : 

"  Oh,  Nana,  Nana,  I  can't  let  you  go !  You  must  come 
too — you  must,  you  must  ! " 

"A  will,  my  lamb!"  cried  the  excited  woman  ;  "de  good 
captain  will  let  me  work  all  de  way,  to  pay  him,  and  a  eat 
on'y  what  keep  de  life  in  me.  Oh,  Missus,  Missy,  Mass7 
Leonard,  you  won't  send  me  back  ?" 

The  boat  was  waiting.  Mrs.  Campbell,  pale  and  wan, 
stood  by,  unable  to  speak ;  Doris  tried  to  say  something, 
hut  her  voice  died  in  her  throat.  Leonard  took  Theo  gently 
from  Lois's  arms,  and  gave  her  to  Doris ;  then  he  put  his 
arm  about  the  old  woman  and  half  led,  half  dragged  her  to 
the  ladder,  while  Dr.  Svensen,  standing  up  in  the  boat, 
helped  her  down,  and,  with  gentle  authority,  hushed  her 
moans  and  cries  of  distress.  Both  Doris  and  Leonard  re 
proached  themselves  bitterly  for  not  having  anticipated  and 
prevented  this  most  painful  scene,  and  poor  little  Theo,  as 
her  violent  excitement  subsided,  was  overwhelmed  with 
shame  and  distress.  Mrs.  Campbell  drew  the  little  girl  to 
her  side  and  held  her  close ;  and  nothing  could  so  quickly 
have  quieted  her  as  this,  for  her  fear  of  injuring  her  mother 
entirely  overpowered  all  other  feelings. 

The  boats  pushed  off.  White  signals  fluttered  from  them 
and  from  the  deck  of  the  ship.  The  anchor  was  weighed, 
the  great  sails  slowly  filled,  and  the  vessel  stood  out  to  sea. 
All  the  passengers,  of  whom,  besides  the  Campbells  and 
Barretts,  there  were  some  eight  or  ten,  remained  on  deck, 
with  faces  turned  toward  the  fast-retreating  shore.  Twilight 


348  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

fell  before  they  lost  sight  of  the  little  city  of  Frederickstadt, 
and  lights  began  to  twinkle  in  a  long  line  from  the  houses 
on  Strand-street,  and  in  various  parts  of  the  town.  The 
crescent  moon  slowly  followed  the  dying  light  in  the  west, 
and  one  by  one  the  large,  bright  stars  appeared. 

No  sound  was  audible,  save  the  soft  plash  and  rush  of  the 
waves,  as  the  keel  of  the  ship  cut  through  them,  and  an 
occasional  flapping  of  a  sail ;  but  presently  one  of  a  party  of 
young  girls,  who  were  going  out  to  a  school  in  the  United 
States,  under  the  care  of  the  mother  of  two  of  them,  began 
softly  to  sing.  The  "tones  of  a  far-off  bell"  had  just  ceased 
to  sound  faintly  across  the  water,  and  seemed  to  have  sug 
gested  her  song  : 

"  Shades  of  evening,  close  not  o'er  us, 

Leave  our  lonely  bark  awhile ; 
Morn,  alas !  will  not  restore  us 

Yonder  dim  and  distant  isle. 
Through  the  mist  that  floats  above  us 

Faintly  sounds  the  vesper-bell, 
Like  a  voice  from  those  who  love  us, 

Breathing  softly,  '  Fare  thee  well ! '  " 

There  were  few  dry  eyes  in  the  little  company  as  the  song 
ended,  but  there  was  no  bitterness  in  the  tears  that  were 
shed.  The  "  holy  calm  "  inspired  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
was  felt  by  all  hearts,  and  Doris  was  inexpressibly  thankful 
to  see  her  mother  sink  peacefully  to  sleep  in  the  narrow 
berth  which  seemed  calculated  to  repel,  rather  than  invite, 
slumber.  Theo,  too,  after  a  little  restless  tossing,  followed 
her  mother  into  the  land  of  dreams,  and  then  Doris,  feeling 
far  too  wide-awake  for  the  discomfort  of  the  state-room, 
stole  back  to  the  deck,  for  it  was  barely  nine  o'clock,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrett,  Jane,  Clara,  and  Leonard  were  still 
there,  and  the  sweet,  cool  night-wind  was  like  a  whisper  of 
peace  and  rest.  The  moon  had  disappeared,  but  her  going 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  349 

seemed  to  have  left  a  legacy  of  light  to  the  stars.  Faint 
flower-scents  pulsed,  from  time  to  time,,  through  the  air, 
borne  from  the  distant  land,  and  the  soft  sound  of  "many 
waters,"  which  can  be  heard  only  when  they  are  all  around 
and  far  from  shore,  was  like  the  striking  of  harmonious 
chords  to  a  tune.  Involuntarily,  all  their  voices  were  modu 
lated  by  the  surrounding  sense  of  peace.  They  spoke  little  ; 
it  was  far  sweeter  just  to  look  and  listen. 

The  days  and  evenings  which  followed  made  a  treasure  of 
peaceful  and  lovely  memories  for  them  all.  The  weather 
remained  clear  and  warm,  and,  although  the  winds  were  not 
always  favorable,  none  of  the  passengers  seemed  vexed  with 
the  delay.  How  could  they  be,  with  the  daily  splendor  of 
sunrise  and  sunset,  the  nightly  glory  of  the  waxing  moon 
to  beguile  the  time  ?  The  pleasant  companionship  and  in 
timacy  of  life  on  board  a  ship  extended  to  the  party  of 
young  girls,  whose  sweet  voices  joined  with  those  of  the 
Campbells  and  Barretts,  nearly  every  evening,  beginning 
with  songs,  and  ending  always  with  the  evening  hymn ; 
other  hymns,  too,  were  sung,  as  one  and  another  named 
some  special  favorite,  and  the  evenings  seemed  all  too  short. 
The  captain,  a  kind-hearted,  quick-tempered  man,  who  had 
known  Mr.  Campbell,  and  knew  Mr.  Barrett  well,  often  lin 
gered  near  the  singers,  and  sometimes  asked  for  an  old- 
fashioned  song  or  hymn,  the  memory  of  which  had  come  to 
him  as  he  listened,  and  both  he  and  the  sailors  were  un 
wearied  in  devising  pleasures  and  amusements  for  the  two 
little  girls,  who,  as  it  happened,  were  the  only  children  on 
board,  and  were  petted  accordingly. 

Doris  saw  with  delight  how  the  pure,  sweet  air,  and  the 
peaceful,  untroubled  life  were  benefiting  her  mother.  Dr. 
Svensen  had  long  ago  said  that  a  sea- voyage  and  a  more 
bracing  climate  might  do  much  for  Mrs.  Campbell,  and  it 
was  evident  now  that  he  was  right.  Her  step  grew  firmer 


350  DORIS   AND    THEODORA. 

and  stronger,  her  eyes  brighter,  and  a  faint  color,  with  no 
suggestion  of  fever  in  it,  began  to  show  in  her  cheeks.  Lit 
tle  Theo,  too,  and  indeed  the  whole  party,  seemed  to  breathe 
in  health  and  strength,  and  Clara  Barrett,  who  had  net  felt 
so  well  for  years,  indulged  bright  hopes  of  health  and  added 
usefulness  in  the  new  home.  They  were  all  good  sailors, 
which  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  considering  the  practice 
on  the  harbor,  which  all  had  enjoyed,  for  sailing  had  been  a 
favorite  amusement,  and  equally  popular  with  riding;  so  a 
few  windy  days,  when  the  sea  ran  high  and  there  was  no 
little  pitching  about  on  board,  did  not  destroy  the  pleasure 
of  the  voyage,  but  rather  added  to  it,  by  giving  them  a  new 
experience  to  remember. 

So  it  was  with  no  little  regret,  and  a  slight  feeling  of 
dread  as  well,  that  Doris,  Jane,  and  Clara,  meeting  on  the 
deck  at  sunrise  on  the  thirteenth  day  out,  heard  the  cry  of 
"  Land ! "  It  was  some  little  time  before  their  untrained  eyes 
discerned  it — a  long,  bluish-gray  strip,  which  at  first  they 
thought  must  be  only  a  cloud,  but  which  rapidly  took  shape 
as  they  watched,  for  there  was  a  favorable  wind,  and  the 
vessel  was  making  good  speed.  One  after  another  the  excited 
passengers  came  up  on  deck  to  look,  and  then  began  the 
gathering  up  and  packing  and  arranging  in  preparation  for 
the  landing  so  soon  to  take  place.  But  the  preparations 
were  finished  in  plenty  of  time,  for  it  was,  of  course,  some 
hours  yet  before  they  entered  New  York  harbor.  They  had 
been  called  up  before,  during  the  voyage,  when  land  had 
been  sighted,  but  the  feeling  was  very  different — this  land 
was  the  place  to  which  they  were  going,  whose  appearance 
told  that  the  pleasant,  restful  voyage  was  over,  and  that 
work  and  anxiety  were  about  to  begin  once  more.  They 
had  expected  to  arrive  by  evening,  but  the  wind  suddenly 
changed,  and  sunset  found  them  still  at  some  distance  from 
the  Narrows,  below  New  York.  Much  has  been  done  since 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  351 

then  to  improve  the  entrance  to  the  harbor,  and  the  cap 
tain,  whom  long  experience  had  rendered  cautious,  slackened 
the  speed  of  the  ship  as  night  approached,  preferring  to  lose 
a  little  time  rather  than  enter  the  channel  by  moonlight, 
well  as  the  pilot  was  accustomed  to  its  turnings  and 
soundings.  They  were  all  glad  of  this  one  more  unexpected 
evening  on  board,  but  it  was  almost  as  silent  as  the  first  had 
been,  for  they  knew  that  next  day  the  little  company  would 
be  scattered,  never  to  be  re-united,  and  the  acquaintanceship 
had  been  so  pleasant  to  them  that  all  their  hearts  were 
touched  by  regret.  Singing,  as  usual,  closed  the  evening, 
and  it  seemed  to  Doris  that  it  had  never  been  so  sweet. 
There  were  promises  to  write — to  meet,  if  that  were  pos 
sible — and  then,  for  the  last  time,  good-nights  were  ex 
changed,  and  all  was  still.  By  dawn  the  next  morning  the 
sails  were  fully  spread,  and  the  ship  was  skimming  over  the 
water  like  a  bird  let  loose,  and  by  noon  the  peace  and  quiet 
ness  of  the  voyage  were  exchanged  for  the  noise  and  con 
fusion  and  glare  of  a  New  York  pier  on  a  midsummer  day. 
Draymen  and  hack  men  were  shouting,  the  hatches  were 
raised,  and  the  work  of  unloading  the  ship  begun,  and  just 
as  Doris  was  turning,  with  a  sigh,  from  the  group  of  strange 
faces  on  the  pier,  she  heard  a  glad  exclamation  and  turned 
back,  and  there,  with  outstretched  hands  and  faces  beaming 
with  pleasure,  were  Mr.  Santon  and  Victor. 


CHAPTEE    XXII. 

greetings  were  full  of  cordial  pleasure  on  both 
sides.  Doris  had  pictured  to  herself  a  forlorn  land 
ing  among  strangers,  without  one  familiar  face  to  welcome 
them,  and  once  more  she  was  struck  with  the  foolishness  of 
foreboding.  With  Mr.  Santon's  help  the  landing  was  quickly 
effected,  their  luggage,  with  only  a  short  delay  and  the  form 
of  an  examination,  released,  and  they  were  free  to  go — but 
where  ?  Leonard  proposed  taking  the  entire  party  to  a  quiet 
hotel  for  that  day  and  night,  and  entering,  the  next  day, 
upon  a  search  for  inexpensive  boarding;  but  Mr.  Santon 
knew,  better  than  he  did,  what  a  costly  business  this  would 
be  for  such  a  number  of  people,  and  had  another  suggestion 
to  make,  which  was  most  gratefully  received.  He  knew  of 
a  quiet,  respectable,  old-fashioned  lodging-house,  in  a  left- 
behind  neighborhood,  which  at  this  time  of  year  was  nearly 
empty,  and  here  he  had  engaged  rooms,  subject  to  the  ap 
proval  of  his  friends. 

"I  did  not  know,"  he  said,  smiling,  "of  your  retinue  of 
faithful  vassals,  but  I  have  no  doubt  they  can  be  accommo 
dated  there  too,  if  they  so  wish,  and  if  they  cannot,  I  think 
we  can  find  them  a  place  not  far  off,  among  their  own  peo 
ple.  Miss  Mackenzie,  who  keeps  the  lodging-house,  is  not 
exactly  French-polished,  but  she  is  honest  and  kind-hearted, 
which  is  something." 

"It  is  almost  everything,"  said  Mrs.  Barrett,  gratefully ; 
"and  any  shelter  from  this  overpowering  heat  would  be  wel 
come.  I  thought  we  were  coming  from  the  torrid  to  the 
temperate  zone,  but  it  feels  very  much  the  other  way ! " 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  353 

The  lodging-house  was  but  a  short  distance  from  the  pier, 
and  most  of  the  party,  despite  the  heat  and  glare,  declared  a 
preference  for  walking,  but  a  carriage  was  called  for  Mrs. 
Campbell,  Mrs.  Barrett,  and  the  two  little  girls,  and  Mr. 
San  ton,  seeing  the  anxious  expression  on  Doris's  face  as 
he  gave  careful  directions  to  the  driver,  smiled  reassuringly 
at  her,  and  sprang  into  the  carriage,  taking  Theo  on  his 
knee. 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  Victor's  pilotage,"  he  called  back  as 
he  shut  the  door;  "  he  knows  the  way  quite  as  well  as  I  do, 
and  we  will  be  there  to  receive  you." 

"  I'm  so  glad  he  did  that,"  said  Doris  to  Jane,  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "  It  was  absurd,  I  suppose,  for  me  to  feel  anxious ; 
but  I  had  a  vision  of  that  hack-driver  losing  our  mothers  and 
sisters  in  this  dreadful  wilderness  of  a  city,  and  of  our  being 
separated,  unable  to  find  each  other,  for  days ! " 

"Yes,  your  face  expressed  all  that,  and  more,"  replied 
Jane,  laughing.  « I  never  could  make  such  imploring  eyes 
as  you  can,  Doris,  though  I  must  confess  I  felt  a  little  un 
easy,  myself,  at  their  being  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  hack- 
driver." 

"Did  I  make  imploring  eyes?"  asked  Doris,  abashed. 
"I'm  sure  I  didn't  mean  to — oh,  I  hope  I  wasn't  foolish  ! " 

"  That's  just  the  beauty  of  it,"  said  Jane,  with  pretended 
mournf ulness;  "if  you  meant  to,  it  wouldn't  be  half  so 
effective.  And  I  don't  believe  anybody  thought  you  were 
foolish,  my  dear;  I'm  sure  I  didn't,  for  I  was  feeling  just 
the  same  way." 

They  had  turned,  following  Victor's  guidance,  from  a 
noisy  thoroughfare  into  a  quiet,  deserted-looking  street, 
where  the  tall  houses  on  either  side  made  shadows  which,  at 
any  other  time  of  day  than  high  noon,  must  have  kept  the 
pavements  comparatively  cool,  but  now  the  sun,  directly 
overhead,  blazed  down  into  the  contracted  space,  making  it 


354  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

seem  a  fiery  furnace,  while  the  heat  of  the  bricks  was  very 
decidedly  felt  by  the  girls  through  the  thin  slippers  which, 
at  that  time,  took  the  place  of  the  sensible  walking-boots  of 
to-day. 

They  were  thankful  when  their  conductor  led  the  way  up 
one  of  the  flights  of  steps  by  which  the  front  doors  were 
reached,  and  they  found  that  they  could  stand  inside  the 
shady  vestibule  while  waiting  for  the  door  to  be  opened. 

"But  how  in  the  world  did  you  know  which  house  to  go 
to,  when  they  are  all  so  exactly  alike  ?  "  asked  Doris,  with  a 
puzzled  face.  "  And  how  can  we  tell  which  one  to  come 
back  to,  when  we  go  out  alone  ?  " 

Victor  smiled,  and  pointed  to  the  number  above  the  door, 
saying : 

"  You  must  grave  that,  and  the  name  of  the  street,  indeli 
bly  upon  the  '  table  of  your  memory/  and  then,  should  you 
find  that  you  are  lost,  you  can  appeal  to  the  first  policeman 
you  meet,  to  help  you  to  find  yourselves." 

"Well,  that  is  some  consolation,"  said  Doris,  "but  I  shall 
write  the  street  and  number  on  a  card,  and  keep  it  in  my 
purse — I  am  quite  sure  that  it  would  desert  me,  from  sheer 
fright,  if  I  were  to  try  suddenly  to  remember  it!" 

"That  will  certainly  be  the  safer  plan,  then,"  replied  Vic 
tor  ;  and  just  then  the  tardy  servant,  too  evidently  a  maid- 
of-all-work,  opened  the  door,  and  greeted  them  with  an  open- 
mouthed  stare  of  astonishment,  before  replying  to  Victor's 
inquiry  if  Miss  Mackenzie  were  at  home.  Hagar's  Madras 
handkerchief,  for  which  no  persuasion  would  have  induced 
her  to  substitute  a  bonnet,  seemed  to  claim  most  of  her  Irish 
sister's  astonished  attention,  but  she  recognized  Victor, 
finally,  and  permitted  the  party  to  walk  into  the  parlor, 
where  they  found  the  rest  of  their  families,  and  also  Mr. 
Santon,  and  Miss  Mackenzie,  with  whom  he  was  already 
bargaining  for  rooms.  There  was  a  look  of  scrupulous 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  355 

cleanliness  about  the  bare,  sparely-furnished  parlor,  whose 
most  striking  feature  was  the  absence  of  anything  that  could 
be  removed  from  the  house  without  the  aid  of  a  furniture- 
car,  or  at  the  very  least,  a  hand-cart.  A  tall  mantel-piece  of 
black  marble,  with  the  chimney  beneath  closed  by  a  sheet- 
iron  fire-board,  added  to  the  general  grimness,  and  Miss 
Mackenzie  was  peculiarly  "in  harmony  with  her  environ 
ment."  Tall  as  the  mantel-piece  was,  she  was  at  least  half  a 
head  taller.  Eyes,  hair,  and  complexion  were  in  three  dif 
ferent  shades  of  gray,  and  her  close-fitting  gown,  with  no 
superfluous  adornments,  was  in  a  fourth — the  darkest  of  all. 
She  was  a  large-boned,  commanding-looking  woman,  calcu 
lated  to  inspire  the  most  self-asserting  lodger  with  respect,  if 
not  absolute  terror ;  but  the  somewhat  unpleasant  first  im 
pression  of  her  face  underwent  an  immediate  change  when 
she  smiled.  She  stated  the  number  of  vacant  rooms  at  her 
disposal,  and  her  terms  for  them,  in  a  lucid  and  conclusive 
manner,  but  hesitated  a  little  as  she  said  : 

"I  do  not  wish  to  disoblige  Mr.  Santon,  for  both  he  and 
his  nephew  are  old  patrons  of  my  ht)use,  but  I  have  hitherto 
made  it  a  rule  never  to  take  children,  and  although  I  should 
be  very  glad  to  fill  so  many  rooms  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
I  doubt  if  it  would  pay  me,  in  the  long  run,  to  break 
through  a  rule  which  I  found  it  expedient  to  make  many 
years  ago." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  gently,  and 
speaking  for  the  first  time;  "for  I  dislike  the  idea  of  going 
to  a  strange  and  unrecommended  lodging-house.  Our  lit 
tle  girls  have  been  taught  to  regard  the  comfort  of  others, 
and  I  do  not  think  they  would  annoy  you  or  your  lodgers, 
but  we  cannot,  of  course,  ask  you  to  disregard  your  own  in 
terest  in  the  matter.  Can  you  direct  us  to  any  house  which 
you  can  recommend  ?  " 

No  amount  of  persuasion  could  have  taken  effect  as  these 


356  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

few  words  did.  The  sweet  voice  and  manner,  the  look  of 
refinement,  and  also  of  suffering,  on  Mrs.  Campbell's  still 
beautiful  face,  would  have  conquered  a  much  harder  heart 
than  that  which  the  honest  Scotchwoman  was  so  often  obliged 
to  silence  in  the  everyday  affairs  of  her  harassed  life.  She 
paused  for  a  moment,  arguing  with  herself,  and  then  said, 
with  sudden  decision : 

"  You  shall  have  the  rooms,  ma'am — I  don't  believe  I 
shall  repent  of  it,  and  if  I  should,  that's  my  own  look-out ! 
I  suppose,  from  what  Mr.  Santon  says,  that  you'd  like  to  get 
settled  right  away,  so  if  you'll  please  to  come  up,  you  can 
take  your  choice.  In  my  time,  it  was  the  mothers  that  had 
first  choice ;  but  now,  I  believe,  it's  the  daughters,  so  you  can 
just  suit  yourselves!" 

There  was  a  general  feeling  of  relief,  for  they  had  all  been 
more  or  less  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  a  farther  search  for 
rooms,  in  the  broiling  heat,  before  they  could  send  for  their 
luggage,  and  feel  that  they  were  even  temporarily  settled. 

Mrs.  Campbell  thanked  Miss  Mackenzie,  and  assured  her 
that  she  would  not  find  the  children  troublesome,  and  then 
inquired  whether  rooms  could  be  found  for  Hagar  and  her 
children,  at  least  until  they  could  secure  situations.  Again 
the  good  woman  hesitated,  but  she  at  last  said: 

"There  are  two  vacant  rooms  in  the  garret,  ma'am,  each 
with  a  decent  bed  and  a  couple  of  chairs  in  them,  and  I 
shouldn't  ask  much  for  them,  either;  but  the  truth  is,  I'm 
afraid  that  good-for-nothing  Irish  girl  I  have  would  make  a 
fuss  about  waiting  on  them,  and  poor  concern  as  she  is,  I've 
changed  till  I'm  sick  of  it,  and  I'd  rather  put  up  with  her 
than  try  a  new  one  ! " 

"Please,  Missis,  we  don'  want  no  waitin'  on — we  wait  on 
we  own  selves,"  said  Hagar,  eagerly.  Her  one  great  terror 
was  that  she  should  be  separated  from  her  "  folks "  in  this 
strange  country,  and  this  overcame  her  reserve. 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  357 

"  If  Missis  let  us,"  she  went  on,  "we  take  care  of  our  own 
folks'  rooms,  all  de  rooms  dey  use — and  Cudjoe,  he  do  heap 
o'  tings  'bout  de  house — Missis  please  jus'  try — she  soon 
see!" 

"There'll  be  no  trouble  if  you  take  care  of  your  own 
rooms,  my  good  woman,"  said  Miss  Mackenzie,  kindly,  "  and 
I'll  allow  for  it  in  your  bill,  of  course.  Now,  Mrs.  Camp 
bell  and  Mrs. — Barrett,  I  think  you  said,  will  you  come  and 
see  the  rooms  ?  " 

There  was  a  large,  pleasant  room  at  the  head  of  the  first 
flight  of  stairs,  where  two,  or  even  three  beds  could  easily 
be  put,  and  this,  Mrs.  Barrett  insisted,  must  be  for  Mrs. 
Campbell  and  her  two  daughters. 

"You  know  we  may  not  be  here  long,"  she  said,  "for  if 
Mr.  Barrett  accepts  his  brother's  offer,  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  live  in  Baltimore,  and  I  don't  in  the  least  mind  going  up 
another  flight  of  stairs,  while  it  would  be  very  bad  for  you, 
dear  Agnes ;  so  say  no  more  about  it,  please  !" 

She  would  listen  to  no  remonstrances,  so  it  was  settled 
accordingly;  two  rooms  on  the  third  floor  were  chosen  for 
the  Barretts,  while  Leonard  cheerfully  bestowed  himself  in 
a  room  on  the  fourth,  which  would  have  made  a  respectable 
closet  for  that  which,  as  a  boy,  he  had  occupied  at  his  uncle's. 
But  he,  too,  would  probably  be  there  only  for  a  short  time  ; 
when  the  summer  vacation  was  over,  he  would  return  to  his 
studies,  at  least  for  another  year  ;  then,  as  he  assured  Doris, 
he  should  be  entirely  governed  by  circumstances  as  to 
whether  he  should  continue  his  education  or  once  more 
postpone  its  completion.  So  long  as  the  plantation  was 
rented,  his  aunt  and  cousins  would  have  enough  to  live 
upon,  with  careful  economy,  and  he  felt  that  his  best  chance 
of  permanently  helping  them  was  to  reach  his  own  perma 
nent  work  as  speedily  as  possible.  Not  that  he  meant  to 
wait  for  this — as  soon  as  his  college  course  was  ended,  he 


358  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

hoped  to  find  some  temporary  employment,  or  rather,  he 
intended  to  find  some,  which  he  could  carry  on  without 
detriment  to  his  medical  studies;  some  little  delay  this 
might  cause,  but  Leonard  had  a  large  fund  of  active  patience 
—in  passive  patience  he  had  no  faith  whatever.  He  and 
Doris,  with  Jane  and  Clara,  had  had  many  long  talks  on 
the  voyage,  concerning  their  various  plans  and  hopes.  Miss 
McConnell  had  provided  Doris  and  Jane  with  letters  of 
introduction  to  the  principal  of  a  well-known  boarding  and 
day-school  for  girls,  in  New  York,  and,  should  these  fail  to 
find  employment  for  them,  they  meant  to  make  a  list  of  all 
the  schools  of  which  they  could  hear,  and  go  systematically 
from  one  to  the  other,  willing  to  accept  the  smallest  begin 
ning,  rather  than  be  idle.  Jane,  too,  had  hope  of  finding 
employment  for  her  pencil,  if  not  in  the  sort  of  work  she 
liked  best,  then  in  some  humbler  way. 

"  Think  of  all  the  designs  which  are  emblazoned  on 
Japanned  waiters  and  tin  things  of  various  sorts,"  she  said, 
"of  all  the  patterns  that  are  needed  for  wall-papers,  and 
chintzes,  and  oil-cloths  !  I  can  surely  find  scope  for  my 
genius  in  some  one  or  more  of  these  departments  !" 

Clara,  who  had  little  confidence  in  her  mental  abilities, 
and  whose  health,  beside,  was  too  uncertain  for  her  to  enter 
into  any  fixed  engagement  which  would  make  regular 
hours  a  necessity,  hoped  to  find  a  market  for  some  of  the 
various  kinds  of  embroidery  and  delicate  needlework  in 
which  she  was  proficient,  but  she  said  little  about  it,  for  she 
saw  that  it  troubled  her  parents  and  sister,  who  had  so  long 
been  used  to  saving  her  from  all  difficult  and  tiresome  tasks, 
that  they  were  slow  to  admit  the  improvement  in  her  health, 
or  that  it  would  add  to  her  happiness  to  be  allowed  to  take 
her  share  of  the  burden.  But,  as  so  often  happens,  circum 
stances  changed  or  modified  nearly  all  their  plans. 

Mr.  Barrett's  older  brother,  who,  several  years  before,  had 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  359 

gone  into  business  in  Baltimore,  but  who  had  not,  at  first, 
succeeded  very  well,  wrote  that  he  was  at  last  beginning  to 
prosper,  and  that  he  could  offer  his  brother  employment,  at 
least  for  the  present,  and,  if  things  continued  to  go  well,  a 
share  in  the  business.  And,  just  as  the  girls  were  lamenting 
the  separation  which  must  ensue,  and  the  fact  that  Jane 
would  have  no  opportunity  to  present  her  letter  to  Miss 
Henderson,  the  principal  of  the  school  where  they  had  hoped 
to  find  employment,  Mr.  Santon  called  to  say  good-bye,  be 
fore  setting  out  upon  a  long  journey  through  the  southern 
and  western  States ;  but  he  had  not  come  only  to  say  good 
bye  ;  he  asked  Doris  if  she  would  permit  him  to  have  his 
piano  brought  to  her  room,  to  remain  there  during  his 
absence ;  it  was  a  very  fine  one,  and  the  room  in  which  he 
should  otherwise  leave  it  was  a  little  damp,  when  it  was 
kept  closed. 

"It  will  need  some  daily  exercise,  too,"  he  said,  with  the 
grave,  pleasant  smile  which  Doris  so  well  remembered, 
"and  perhaps  you  will  grant  me  the  favor  of  giving 
it?" 

The  conflict  in  Doris's  mind  between  eager  pleasure  at 
the  prospect  of  once  more  having  the  use  of  a  piano,  and 
doubt  whether  she  ought  to  accept  the  favor,  was  so  evident 
in  her  face,  that  Mr.  Santon,  turning  to  Mrs.  Campbell,  said 
earnestly : 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Mrs.  Campbell,  the  obligation  will  be 
very  great  to  me  if  you  will  permit  me  to  do  this.  I  may, 
may  I  not  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  refuse  a  favor  so  skillfully  bestowed  ?  "  she 
said,  gratefully.  "  Doris  has  been  very  patient  under  the 
deprivation,  but  I  know  how  great  it  has  been,  and  I  can 
only  thank  you  for  this  most  kind  thought." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  much  pleasure  you-are  giving 
to  both  of  us — all  of  us!"  cried  Doris,  joyfully,  all  her 


360  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

doubts  removed  by  her  mother's  sanction  ;  "  and  I  will  be  so 
very,  very  careful  of  it ! " 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that  for  a  moment,"  he  replied;  "all  I 
ask  is  that  you  will  not  be  too  careful ;  that  you  will  use  it  as 
freely  as  if  it  were  your  own.  For  you  will  find,  I  fear,  a 
little  difficulty  in  making  up  for  lost  time,  and,  if  you  con 
clude  to  accept  this" — and  he  handed  her  a  letter — "you 
will  be  obliged  to  work  diligently  in  the  interval.  Will  you 
read  it,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  ?  I  have  something  for 
you,  too,  Miss  Barrett,  from  the  same  source;"  and  he 
handed  Jane  the  perfect  fac-simile,  in  outward  appearance, 
of  the  letter  he  had  just  given  Doris. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  turning  once  more  to  Mrs.  Campbell, 
"my  long  experience  as  a  teacher  has  given  me  a  rather 
large  acquaintance  among  other  teachers,  and  this  has 
made  it  possible  for  me  to  further  your  daughter's  plans, 
and  those  of  Miss  Barrett,  a  little.  I  have  taught  in  Miss 
Henderson's  school  for  several  years,  and  she  was  kind 
enough  to  listen  to  a  suggestion  I  made  the  other  day." 

The  two  letters  contained  similar  offers,  one  for  drawing, 
the  other  for  music  ;  these  were,  that  Doris  and  Jane  should 
each  teach  a  class  of  little  girls  for  the  ensuing  school  year, 
receiving  in  payment  lessons  from  excellent  teachers. 

"I  will  make  no. promises  as  to  the  future,"  wrote  Miss 
Henderson,  "  beyond  saying,  that  it  will  rest  very  much 
with  yourself  to  decide  whether  or  not  you  will  be  qualified 
for  a  salaried  position  at  the  end  of  the  year;  but,  from  what 
Mr.  Santon  tells  me,  I  think  I  may  safely  say  that  it  is  quite 
probable  that  you  may  be." 

Whatever  trouble  Mr.  Santon  might  have  taken  to  secure 
these  offers,  he  was  well  repaid  for  it  by  the  earnest  thanks 
which  he  received — and  disclaimed. 

"  But  were  you  not  afraid  to  recommend  us,"  inquired 
Doris,  "  without  knowing  more  about  our  qualifications  ?  " 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  361 

"  More — than  what  ?  "  asked  Mr.  San  ton,  in  turn. 

"More  than — than  you  did  !"  and  Doris  joined  in  the 
laugh  which  followed. 

"  You  seem  to  forget,"  said  Mr.  Santon,  as  he  rose  to  go, 
"  that  I  have  a  sister  and  niece  in  Santa  Cruz,  and  that  I 
have  great  confidence  in  their  judgment." 

"  Then  it  was  Antoinette,"  said  Doris.  "  Oh,  how  can  I 
thank  you  both  ?  " 

"  I  can't  answer  for  my  niece,"  he  replied,  "  but  for  my 
self,  I  am  already  quite  sufficiently,  more  than  sufficiently, 
thanked." 

And  with  a  friendly  good-bye  to  each  of  them,  he  was 
gone. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrett  readily  consented  to  leave  Jane  in 
Mrs.  Campbell's  care,  that  she  might  avail  herself  of  this  un 
looked-for  opportunity,  and  the  girls  went  to  work  at  once, 
with  all  diligence.  Doris  had  consulted  Miss  Mackenzie 
about  having  the  piano  brought  upstairs,  and  the  landlady 
had  replied  : 

"It's  none  of  my  business,  I  suppose;  but  it  strikes  me 
that  if  your  practising  is  going  to  amount  to  anything,  it 
will  about  wear  the  life  out  of  that  patient-looking  mother 
of  yours.  Now,  see  here,"  and  she  threw  open  a  door  which 
led  from  the  hall  into  a  small  room  behind  the  parlor,  which 
Doris  had  not  yet  seen.  It  contained  a  lounge,  two  or  three 
chairs,  a  round  table,  and  a  small  but  well-filled  book-case. 
"  This  is  what  I  call  my  sitting-room,"  she  continued,  with 
a  grimly-ironical  smile ;  "  but  I'm  like  a  bird  of  paradise,  in 
one  respect,  nobody  ever  sees  me  light— in  the  daytime, 
anyhow — and  if  you  choose  to  have  your  piano  put  here, 
you  can  practise  all  day,  if  you  like,  without  disturbing  a 
soul." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Doris,  gratefully,  "how  kind  you 
are;   but  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  use  another  room 
16 


3G2  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

in  this  way  without  paying  something  for  it,  and  I'm 
afraid " 

"Very  well,"  interrupted  Miss  Mackenzie,  with  a  refresh 
ing  disregard  of  ceremony  ;  "  then  you  can  pay  me  by  sing 
ing  me  a  Scotch  song  once  in  a  while — if  I  should  ever  hap 
pen  to  have  the  time  to  sit  down  and  listen  to  you." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  said  Doris,  warmly  ;  "  and — may  I  pay 
you  just  a  little,  now  ?  " 

And  before  the  astonished  landlady  could  retreat,  Doris 
had  pressed  a  kiss  upon  that  stern  brow  ! 

Miss  Mackenzie  was  actually  induced  to  sit  down  for  an 
hour,  on  the  evening  after  the  arrival  of  the  piano,  which, 
with  its  pretty  cover,  furnished  the  bare  little  sitting-room 
wonderfully.  Mr.  Santon  had  sent  a  man  to  tune  the  piano, 
thinking  it  might  be  jarred  by  the  removal,  so  it  was  in  per 
fect  order  when  Doris  sat  down  to  it  after  tea,  and  for  that 
evening  troubles  and  anxieties  were  almost  forgotten.  It 
was  Leonard's  last  day  with  them,  for  he  was  returning  to 
college  a  little  before  the  close  of  the  vacation,  that  he 
might  pick  up  various  dropped  stitches,  and  be  in  readiness 
for  the  beginning  of-the  term ;  and  amid  all  his  gladness  at 
the  prospect  of  resuming  his  studies,  was  a  great  regret  that 
he  must  leave  his  adopted  mother  and  sisters  to  take  care  of 
each  other.  Indeed,  he  had  wavered  a  little  towards  the  last, 
and  suggested  the  possibility  of  finding  a  clerkship  in  New 
York  for  a  few  months;  but  to  this  suggestion  neither  Mrs. 
Campbell  nor  Doris  would  listen  for  a  moment,  insisting 
that  they  needed  no  help,  and  that  he  must  dismiss  all 
anxiety  about  them  from  his  mind.  This  he  could  not  do, 
but  he  could  at  least  refrain  from  adding  his  anxiety  to 
theirs,  and  he  strove  hard,  and  with  good  success,  to  make 
their  last  few  days  together  cheerful  ones. 

As  one  and  another  called  for  favorite  songs,  on  that  last 
evening,  the  present  seemed  to  fade  away,  and  the  past  to 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  3G3 

return.  The  sea-breeze  which  makes  New  York  so  much 
more  tolerable  in  summer  than  any  inland  city,  swept  in  at 
the  open  window,  and  little  Theo,  nestling  close  to  her 
mother,  whispered  : 

"  I  am  shutting  my  eyes,  and  really  believing  that  we  are 
at  home,  and  that  the  house,  and  sister's  piano,  never  were 
burnt  at  all!" 

Mrs.  Campbell  smiled,  and  said  nothing  to  dispel  the 
illusion;  if  it  had  been  Doris  to  whom  Theo  confided  this 
little  arrangement  with  herself,  the  reply  would  probably 
have  been : 

"  But,  Theo,  you  were  only  a  baby  when  the  house  was 
burnt,   and  you   can't  remember   when  I   had  the  piano 
at  all  ! " 

In  common  with  many  imaginative  children,  Theo  had 
many  imaginary  recollections— things  of  which  she  heard 
her  mother  and  sister  speak  frequently  grew,  in  time,  to 
seem  to  her  like  memories,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  was  very 
careful,  whenever  it  was  necessary  to  set  her  right,  to  do  so 
with  great  gentleness,  and  without  the  least  insinuation  that 
she  was  willfully  untruthful.  She  had  warned  Doris  more 
than  once  about  this,  for  it  was  not  easy  for  Doris's  down 
right,  rather  literal  mind,  to  make  allowance  for  some  of  her 
little  sister's  mental  vagaries. 

The  family  sat  long  that  evening  in  Mrs.  Campbell's  room, 
which,  by  means  of  a  screen  and  curtain,  had  been  divided 
into  bedroom  and  parlor.  A  large,  strange  city  seems,  some 
times,  a  much  more  lonely  place  than  the  most  secluded 
country  house,  and  Leonard's  heart  sank  very  low  as  he 
thought  how  utterly  alone  his  dear  ones  would  be. 

"If  you  were  not  such  a  dear,  brave,  capable  little 
general,"  he  said  to  Doris,  as  he  clasped  her  hands  to  bid 
her  good-night,  "  and  if  you  had  not  Cudjoe's  strength  and 
devotion  to  fall  back  upon,  I  should  give  up  this  college- 


364  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

business,  even  now,  and  stay  to  take  care  of  you  all.  I  feel 
like  a  miserable  renegade,  and  as  if  I  needn't  expect  my  little 
affairs  to  prosper,  after  leaving  you  in  this  way  ! " 

"  But  you  know  I  am  dear  and  brave  and  capable ! "  said 
Doris,  smiling  up  at  him;  "and  with  mamma  so  much 
better  than  we  ever  hoped  to  see  her,  and  Theo  so  well,  and 
Miss  Mackenzie  so  strong  and  kind,  and  this  unhoped-for 
chance  of  immediate  work,  I  should  be  ungrateful  indeed,  if 
I  were  discontented,  or  afraid.  Dear  Leonard,  it  comes  to 
rne  so  often — '  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  me/  and  that 
dear  old  verse  of  the  hymn  the  servants  were  all  so  fond  of — 

"  '  Here  I  raise  my  Ebenezer, 

Hither  by  Thy  help  I've  come, 
And  I  hope,  by  Thy  good  pleasure, 
Safely  to  arrive  at  home.'  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Campbell,  "when  the  Help  has  been 
proved,  as  we  have  proved  it,  we  have  no  right  to  doubt  or 
fear  ;  but  I  know  just  how  you  are  feeling,  my  dear  boy — 
I  have  often  thought  how  much  more  easy  it  is  to  be  calm 
and  trustful  about  one's  self  than  about  those  one  loves 
best." 

"  That  is  just  it,"  said  Leonard,  earnestly ;  "  but  I  sup 
pose  that  is  quite  as  much  a  want  of  faith — more,  perhaps — 
than  distrusting  about  one's  self.  Dear  Aunt  Agnes,  will 
you  have  prayers  with  us  to-night?  Do  you  feel  strong 
enough  ?  No,  I  see  you  don't — you  look  all  tired  out,  and 
I  must  let  you  go  to  bed." 

"  I  believe  I  am  too  tired,"  she  replied,  "  or,  at  least,  my 
voice  is  too  weak ;  but,  Leonard  dear,  will  you  not  read  them 
in  my  place  ?  We  shall  all  like  to  remember  it  when  you 
are  so  far  away." 

It  required  no  little  effort  on  Leonard's  part  to  do  this, 
for,,  frank  as  he  was,  he  was  reserved  about  his  deepest  feel- 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 


ings;  but  his  hesitation  was  scarcely  perceptible,  and  when 
once  he  had  begun,  he  quite  forgot  himself,  and  the  loving 
thanks  which  he  read  in  the  eyes  of  his  aunt  and  cousins 
more  than  repaid  him  for  the  self-conquest. 


CHAPTEE    XXIII. 

rTIHE  departure  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrett,  Clara  and 
Helen,  took  place  soon  after  that  of  Leonard,  and 
then  Mrs.  Campbell's  family,  with  the  addition  of  Jane 
Barrett,  who  already  seemed  completely  one  with  it,  settled 
into  a  quiet  routine — quiet,  but  not  monotonous,  for  Doris 
and  Jane  were  both  on  the  alert  to  import  small  pleasures 
into  it,  and  small  changes  for  the  better. 

It  can  readily  be  imagined  that  the  great  change  in  all 
their  surroundings,  in  their  mode  of  living — in  everything, 
in  short,  but  their  individuality — had  caused  many  a  struggle, 
and  not  a  few  tears — tears  which  each  had  as  carefully  con 
cealed  from  the  rest  as  if  they  were  high  treason. 

For  a  little  while,  they  had  all  been  uneasy  about  Theo. 
She  had  not  complained,  but  appetite  and  strength  had 
failed,  and  they  found  that  she  slept  but  little.  She  clung 
to  little  Helen,  and  every  day,  almost  at  the  same  hour,  the 
two  children  disappeared  together  for  an  hour  or  so,  gener 
ally  coming  back  with  red  eyes.  But  shortly  before  Helen 
went  away,  Theo  returned  alone  to  her  mother's  room,  hav 
ing  vanished  with  Helen  at  the  usual  time,  but  remained 
only  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  She  was  not  crying,  but  there 
was  a  look  of  offended  dignity  on  her  gentle  little  face,  very 
unusual  to  it.  She  sat  quietly  down  with  a  book,  but  rose 
at  once  when  Mrs.  Campbell  said  : 

"  Where  do  you  go  every  day,  darling,  and  where  is  Helen  ? 
I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me  of  your  own  accord." 

"  Helen  is  in  that  funny  little  garret  where  Miss  Macken 
zie  said  we  could  play,  mamma,"  replied  Theo,  drawing  a 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  3G7 

footstool  close  to  her  mother,  and  sitting  down  on  it,  "and 
that  is  where  we  have  been  every  day;  but  I  shall  not  go 
there  any  more,  so  I  don't  mind  telling  you  now — the  only 
reason  why  I  have  not  told  you  was  because  I  thought  it 
would  make  you  unhappy.  We  went  every  day  to  talk 
about  the  Island,  and — and — everything,  you  know,  and  to 
cry;  but  Helen  never  could  remember  so  many  things  as  I 
could— nice  things,  that  is— and  she  did  not  cry  much,  even 
at  first ;  and  to-day,  when  I  went  up  there,  she  had  taken 
up  our  dolls  and  things,  and  made  a  play-house  of  it,  and  as 
soon  as  I  went  in,  she  said  :  '  See  here,  Theo,  I  really  don't 
wish  to  cry  any  more.  I  like  it  here  ;  it  isn't  as  if  we  had 
nobody  with  us — we  have  everybody  we  love  best.  Let's 
play  live  in  a  house,  just  for  to-day,  and  then,  if  you  don't 
like  it,  I  will  take  the  things  away;  but  you  will  have  to  cry 
by  yourself,  for  I  can't  do  it  any  more.'  So  I  just  came  right 
away — was  it  rude  in  me  to  do  that,  mamma,  without  say 
ing  anything?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  was  a  little  rude,  darling.  And  Theo, 
suppose  1  should  be  obliged  to  sell  the  nicest  of  your  clothes, 
and  some  of  your  books  and  playthings,  should  you  care  very 
much  so  long  as  you  knew  that  I  loved  you  just  as  dearly, 
and  would  always  keep  you  near  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  mamma,  of  course  I  shouldn't !  You  didn't  even 
think  I  would,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  for  I  know  how  much  you  love  me.  And,  dear  little 
girl,  if  we  love  our  Heavenly  Father  as  we  should,  we  shall 
care  but  little  when  He  takes  some  of  the  good  things  of  this 
world  away,  for  reasons  which  we  cannot  now  understand,  so 
long  as  He  loves  us  and  keeps  us  in  His  loving  care.  Does 
it  look  like  trusting  Him,  to  keep  on  mourning  for  what  we 
have  lost,  instead  of  giving  thanks  for  the  many,  many  good 
things  that  are  left?" 

Theo  hid  her  face  on  her  mother's  knee,  as  she  said : 


368  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"Ob,  mamma!  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  way  before. 
I  wish  I  bad.  I  am  very,  very  sorry — and  He  knows  that, 
doesn't  He  ?  And  I  will  go  straight  back,  mamma,  and  beg 
Helen's  pardon  for  being  rude,  and  play  with  her  as  long  as 
she  likes — it  is  a  dear  little  play-room,  and  she  had  made  it 
look  so  pretty,  and  I  never  even  said  so.  Good-bye,  mamma; 
I'm  afraid  she  will  come  down,  if  I  don't  hurry." 

"Stop  half-a-minnte,  darling— there  is  a  parcel  for  the 
dolls,  which  I  made  up  this  morning,  on  my  bureau  ;  take  it 
with  you,  and  divide  it  between  Helen's  children  and  your 
own." 

"Oh,  mamma!  What  lovely  things  are  sticking  out  of 
the  ends!  Thank  you  so  very  much!"  and  with  another 
fervent  kiss,  she  was  gone,  to  appear  no  more  until  the 
dinner-hour  arrived,  when  she  and  Helen  came  down  hand- 
in-hand,  and  with  faces  expressing  great  content  with  each 
other  and  the  world  in  general. 

Mrs.  Campbell  had  been  afraid  that  when  Helen's  happy, 
healthy  influence  was  removed,  Theo  would  once  more  suf 
fer  from  despondency  and  homesickness — and  again  she  had 
reason  to  chide  herself  for  foolish  fears.  Jane  had  roomed 
with  her  two  sisters,  and  it  was  decided,  when  they  went 
away,  that  she  and  Doris  should  share  a  somewhat  smaller 
room,  directly  over  Mrs.  Campbell's.  The  only  disadvantage 
of  this  arrangement  was,  that  the  latter  room  faced  south, 
while  in  the  former  Jane  had  enjoyed  the  "  north  light " 
dear  to  all  artists. 

The  little  garret  of  which  the  children  had  grown  so  fond 
had  a  large  dormer  window  facing  north,  and  here,  the  day 
after  her  family  went  away,  Jane  carried  all  her  drawing  and 
painting  materials,  having  first  asked  formal  permission  of 
the  small  householder,  whose  dolls  occupied  so  much  of  the 
floor  that  Jane  found  some  difficulty  in  making  her  way  to 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  369 

the  window,  the  broad  seat  of  which  served  excellently  for  a 
table. 

Jane  had  offered  to  pay  Miss  Mackenzie  a  small  rent  for 
the  use  of  this  room,  and  had  been  answered  thus: 

"Rent!  For  that  poke-hole!  I  know  I'm  not  pretty, 
Miss  Barrett,  but  if  I  look  like  that,  I'd  better  wear  a  veil. 
You  take  your  traps  up  there,  if  you  can  find  room  to  turn 
round  in  after  you've  got  them  there,  and  say  no  more  about 
any  such  nonsense  as  rent,  if  you  want  me  to  keep  civil." 

Ah!  what  happy  hours  "that  poke-hole"  witnessed,  all 
through  the  long,  pleasant  days  of  the  autumn  that  followed. 
Miss  Mackenzie  spirited  away  a  variety  of  lumber  which  she 
comprehensively  classed  as  "trash";  the  dolls  were  rele 
gated  to  one  carefully-measured  half  of  the  narrow  space, 
and  it  was  one  of  the  delights  of  Theo's  life  to  devise  sur 
prises  for  Jane  in  the  way  of  decoration  or  convenience  for 
"her  half."  There  were  long  conversations  between  the 
occupants  of  the  studio,  as  Theo  insisted  that  the  lumber- 
garret  must  now  be  called  ;  and  the  little  girl  patiently 
posed  for  Jane,  or  helped  to  arrange  drapery,  flowers,  or 
whatever  happened  to  be  the  study  for  the  day.  Jane  found 
herself  entering  into  the  visions  and  "pretends"  of  her 
small  companion  with  an  earnestness  and  pleasure  at  which 
she  smiled  when  she  was  alone,  and  no  one  would  have 
guessed,  from  Theo's  manner,  that  they  were  not  of  precisely 
the  same  age.  They  were  both  lamenting  the  supposed 
inevitable  necessity  of  giving  up  the  studio  when  the  weather 
should  become  a  little  colder,  for  already  a  few  frosty  nights 
had  made  it  uncomfortably  chilly,  and  Mrs.  Campbell  was 
nervously  anxious  that  Theo  should  not  begin  the  winter 
with  a  cold. 

"And  such  a  little,  little  stove  would  warm  it!"  said  Theo, 
wistfully;  "and  that  place  where  the  paper  is  pasted  must 
be  a  pipe-hole— and  oh,  Jeanie,  mustn't  it  be  nice  to  have 


370  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

enough  money  to  walk  into  a  big  stove-store,  and  pick  out  a 
darling  little  stove,  with  a  place  to  show  the  fire,  and  may 
be  even  a  place  where  one  could  roast  chestnuts  and  bake 
apples  ! " 

"Now,  Theodora!"  said  Jane,  in  the  tone  of  playful 
argument  she  so  often  used  with  Theo,  "  don't  you  see  that 
if  we  had  the  money  to  be  buying  stoves  in  that  lordly  man 
ner,  we  should  disdain  the  poke-hole,  and  hire  a  studio  over 
a  picture-store  on  Broadway  ?  " 

But  Theo  shook  her  head  wisely,  saying: 

"Suppose,  Jeanie,  you  were  to  sell  just  one  of  these  lovely 
pictures — then  you  could  buy  a  stove  ;  but  you  couldn't  rent 
that  grand  studio !  And  I  wish  you'd  please  not  call  this  the 
poke-hole— you  know  it  really  isn't  any  more,  for  Miss  Mac 
kenzie  has  put  every  one  of  the  pokes  somewhere  else,  and  it 
is  really  and  truly  a  studio  now." 

Jane  always  declared  that  Miss  Mackenzie,  being  a  Scotch 
woman,  was  endowed  with  the  gift  of  "second  sight,"  and  a 
few  mornings  after  the  above  conversation  took  place,  there 
was  something  like  a  confirmation  of  this  theory.  Breakfast 
and  tea  were  served  in  the  dining-room  to  as  many  of  the 
lodgers  as  chose  to  order  them,  and  Mrs.  Campbell's  family 
was  of  this  number.  Dinner,  through  the  unobtrusive  kind 
ness  of  Mr.  Santon,  was  sent  them  every  day  from  a  neigh 
boring  club-house,  where,  for  a  very  moderate  weekly  pay- 
'ment,  they  obtained  plain,  but  well-cooked  and  nicely-served 
meals. 

Miss  Mackenzie,  in  her  bird-of-paradise  role,  presided  over 
the  meals,  pouring  tea  and  coffee,  directing  the  clumsy 
servant,  and  taking  scrupulous  care  of  the  comfort  of  her 
lodgers.  She  paused  in  one  of  her  flights,  this  morning, 
behind  Jane's  chair,  just  as  the  latter  was  folding  her  nap 
kin,  and  said,  briskly : 

"  Miss  Barrett,  will  you  step  out  here  a  moment  ?  " 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  371 

Jane  followed  her  to  the  kitchen,  wondering  a  little,  but 
with  no  misgivings  as  to  loss  of  appetite  as  the  penalty,  for 
cleanliness  came  very  near  indeed  to  the  good  landlady's 
godliness. 

Will  any  one  who  reads  this,  I  wonder,  remember  a  cer 
tain  style  of  stove,  shaped  like  the  bandboxes  in  use  at  that 
time,  slightly  elongated,  but  of  about  the  size  which  an  old- 
time  hat  and  plume  required  a  bandbox  to  be  ?  Rough  little 
affairs  they  were,  with  a  door  which  never  would  shut  quite 
tightly,  fastened  with  a  big,  clumsy  "thumb-latch,"  and  a 
smaller  door  in  this,  by  way  of  draught,  latched  with  a  piece 
of  twisted  iron  wire.  Four  spider-legs,  with  droll  little  flat 
feet,  gave  the  affair  an  uncannily  life-like  look,  and  the  pipe 
went  up,  without  any  complication  of  dampers  and  regu 
lators,  but  simply  and  straightforwardly,  from  the  extreme 
back  of  the  top.  But  what  roaring,  crackling  hickory  fires 
the  grandmothers  listened  to,  as  they  sat  about  these  sociable 
little  stoves,  and  what  delightful  possibilities  of  amateur 
cooking  lay  upon  the  smooth,  level  top!  One  of  these, 
blacked  till  it  shone,  stood  near  the  kitchen  door,  and  Miss 
Mackenzie,  as  usual,  proceeded  at  once  to  the  point. 

"You  can't  use  that  garret  much  longer  without  a  fire, 
Miss  Barrett,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  like  this.  I've 
no  earthly  use  for  it,  but  mother  was  fond  of  it,  and  I  can't 
bring  myself  to  send  it  away,  though  very  likely  that's  all 
foolishness — people  who  keep  lodgers  have  no  business  to  try 
to  keep  sentiments  too.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there — 
good  hickory  wood  lasts  longer  than  you'd  think  in  it,  and  a 
cord  would  about  see  you  through  the  winter,  I  should 
think,  if  you're  careful.  Xow  what  I  have  to  say  is  this — 
and  where  no  offence  is  meant  none  must  be  taken — perhaps 
you  don't  sell  your  things,  but  there's  a  little  picture  of  a 
waterfall  that  I  saw  the  day  you  were  kind  enough  to  show 
me  some  of  them,  and  I  want  it  for  that  sitting-room  where 


372  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

I  never  sit.  I  know  a  place— I've  dealt  there  a  good  many 
years — where  I  could  get  you  some  honest,  sound  hickory 
wood,  and  I'll  give  you  a  cord  and  a  half  for  that  picture 
— your  man  could  cut  it  up  for  you,  evenings,  in  the  cellar, 
and  it  will  burn  all  the  longer  for  being  fresh  cut.  Now, 
what  do  you  say  ?  Is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 

"Oh,"  cried  Jeanie,  her  face  beaming  with  delight,  "you 
lovely  woman,  you  good  fairy !  Is  it  a  bargain,  she  says ! 
That  poor  little  picture  for  a  whole  winter's  happiness! 
Are  you  sure  you're  not  cheating  yourself  ?  May  I  do  it 
with  a  clear  conscience?  Then  you  must  let  me  hug  you, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not ! " 

And  Jane's  slender  arms  gave  that  gaunt  form  such  a  hug 
ging  as  it  had  never  experienced  since  the  days  when  it  was 
young  and  round  and  fair,  and  a  little  sister,  "  gone  away  " 
long  ago,  had  said : 

"I  love  you  dearly,  dearly,  Grizzie!" 

"  Then  it's  a  bargain,"  said  Miss  Mackenzie,  with  a  curi 
ous  shake  in  her  voice,  "and  the  boy  can  carry  it  up  to 
night  and  fix  the  pipe,  and  the  wood  shall  be  here  to-mor 
row,  and,  my  dear,  I  can't  make  speeches,  but  you  and  your 
folks  are  the  first  lodgers  I've  ever  had  who  cared  a  brass 
farthing  what  became  of  me,  so  long  as  their  rooms  and 
victuals  suited  them ;  and  I  don't  slop  over  the  way  some  do, 
but  I  don't  forget,  the  way  they  do,  either." 

She  stalked  away,  and  Jane  flew  to  tell  her  good  news 
before  it  should  be  time  to  go  to  school — for  both  she  and 
Doris  had  begun  to  go  by  this  time — and  oh,  the  jubilation 
in  Mrs.  Campbell's  room  over  that  spider-legged  stove  and 
the  cord  and  a  half  of  hickory  wood  ! 

And  Miss  Mackenzie?  She  went  into  her  sitting-room, 
locked  the  door,  and  sat  down!  She  sat  for  fully  ten 
minutes,  with  one  hand  shading  her  sharp  eyes,  and  they 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  373 

did  not  look  very  sharp  when  she  sprang  up,  saying 
sternly : 

"  What  a  dreadful  old  fool  I  am  ! " 

That  afternoon  Jane  and  Theo  started  on  a  pilgrimage  as 
soon  as  the  former  returned  from  school.  Jane  carried  a  flat 
parcel,  and  they  went  into  shop  after  shop  where  pictures  of 
any  kind  were  displayed  in  the  window.  It  was  nearly  dark 
when  they  at  last  came  out  from  the  most  imposing-looking 
one  into  which  they  had  ventured,  minus  the  parcel,  and 
plus  a  look  of  triumph  on  their  faces,  and,  safe  in  Jane's 
purse,  three  dollars!  A  quick  flight  was  made  then  to  a 
frame-maker's  shop,  a  neat  and  pretty  frame  was  bought, 
from  a  measurement  Jane  carried,  and  that  evening,  when 
Miss  Mackenzie  lit  the  lamp  in  the  sitting-room,  the  water 
fall  was  hanging  on  the  Avail. 

"Now,  she's  gone  and  bought  that  frame,"  soliloquized 
the  landlady,  "  but  it  isn't  an  expensive  one,  and  I'll  just 
take  it  as  it's  meant — there's  little  enough  of  that  done  in 
this  world,  dear  knows  ! " 

Jane  had  feared  a  remonstrance,  and  her  mind  was  much 
relieved  by  the  brief,  sincere  thanks  which  came  instead. 

In  truth,  the  frame  had  cost  but  a  third  of  her  suddenly- 
acquired  wealth,  and  that  night,  as  she  and  Doris  made  ready 
for  bed,  Jane  exclaimed: 

"  Doris,  you  know  how  it  always  is  with  easily-acquired 
riches !  I  am  seized  with  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  extravagance. 
To-morrow  I  shall  buy  one  hundred  of  the  largest  oysters  to 
be  found  at  the  wharf,  a  dozen  of  the  very  best  French  rolls, 
and  a  pound  of  golden  butter,  and  to-morrow  night,  when 
the  day's  work  and  labor  is  over  and  done,  we  will  put  your 
mother  in  a  chair  and  give  her  to  Cud  joe,  and  we  will  deck 
llagar  and  Pareen  in  white  aprons,  and  wre  will  lay  violent 
hands  on  Miss  Grizzie — I  have  just  discovered  that  her  name 
is  Grizzie,  and  I  mean  always  to  call  her  that  behind  her 


374  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

back — and  then  we  will  spread  a  royal  feast  in  the  studio, 
with  obsequious  menials  behind  (nearly)  every  chair— oh, 
and  a  pound  of  candles  illuminating  the  festive  scene ;  and 
because  we  have  not  a  pound  of  candlesticks,  and  the  potato 
is  a  dull  and  soulless  vegetable,  we  will  even  buy  a  quarter 
of  a  peck  of  bright  red  apples,  and  they  will  be  quite  good 
enough  to  eat  afterward,  if  we  cut  them  carefully  and  wrap 
the  candles  in  paper.  Why  don't  you  applaud  ?  why  don't 
you  answer,  Doris  ?  You  are  as  bad  as  a  potato  candle 
stick  !" 

"I  have  been  patiently  waiting  for  a  chance,"  said  Doris, 
laughing;  "you  wouldn't  have  had  me  interrupt  that  flow 
of  eloquence?  It  will  be  truly  magnificent,  and  if  I  had  a 
thing  that  I  could  sell,  I  would  ask  the  privilege  of  contrib 
uting—as  it  is,  I  will  lend  my  intellect,  my  useful  hands, 
and  my  influence,  and  anything  else  of  which  you  can 
think,  dear  Jeanie!" 

Theo's  rapture,  when  the  plan  was  confided  to  her  in  the 
morning,  was  far  too  deep  and  high  for  words,  and  found  ex 
pression  in  deeds.  Much  to  Miss  Mackenzie's  silent  amuse 
ment,  a  large  basket,  a  broom,  dustpan,  brush  and  duster 
were  borrowed  from  the  kitchen,  as  soon  as  the  short  school- 
hours  with  Mrs.  Campbell  were  ended ;  all  assistance  was 
gently*  but  firmly  declined;  and  when  Jane  and  Doris  re 
paired  to  the  studio  to  put  it  in  order,  behold,  it  shone  with 
cleanliness  ;  the  dolls,  with  all  their  belongings,  had  van 
ished,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  were  two  small  tables, 
placed  close  together,  and  covered  with  a  snowy  cloth.  The 
stove  had  been  sent  up  the  day  before,  with  a  basket  of  wood 
which  Miss  Mackenzie  had  insisted  upon  "lending"  till  the 
load  arrived,  and  Pareen  had  been  graciously  permitted  to 
bring  the  tables  from  Mrs.  Campbell's  room  to  the  door  of 
the  studio,  but  no  farther! 

Doris  and  Jane  and  Theo  have  dined  many  times  since 


DORIS   AND    THEODORA.  375 

then,  in  spacious  rooms,  with  brilliant  lights  and  brilliant 
people,  but  no  feast  has  ever  shone  for  them  as  this  one 
shone.  Even  Hagar's  stolid  face  caught  a  gleam  of  the 
brightness,  the  gravity  fled  from  Cudjoe's,  and  once  more  his 
mtfuth  threatened  to  bisect  his  entire  head,  while  Pareen, 
resplendent  in  her  mother's  gayest  turban,  and  a  volumi 
nous  white  apron  tied  over  what  Theo  called  her  Sundayest 
gown,  retired  to  the  passage,  at  short  intervals,  that  she 
might  "let  a  little  o'  de  laugh  out'n  her." 

"And  mamma  never  said  a  word  about  the  smoke,  except 
that  roast  oysters  had  such  a  delightful  smell,"  wrote  Theo, 
in  describing  the  banquet  to  Helen.  "  And  oh,  Helen,  you 
know  we  thought  Miss  Mackenzie  so  stern,  and  not  exactly 
cross,  but  well,  you  know  ;  and  she  said  the  very  funniest 
things  of  any  of  us,  and  made  us  laugh  till  we  nearly 
cried!" 

This  work-a-day  world  may  be  full  of  briars — but  what 
lovely,  star-like  blossoms  grow  upon  the  thorny  bramble- 
stems,  and  what  sweet  fruit  ripens  on  them,  in  the  scorching 
summer  sun  ! 

Mrs.  Campbell  was  at  first  uneasy  as  to  the  future  of 
Hagar,  Pareen,  and  Cudjoe — but,  as  usual,  the  phantom 
vanished  as  the  realities  drew  near.  Hagar  soon  saw  her 
opportunity,  and,  saying  nothing,  began  to  make  herself  first 
useful,  and  then  almost  indispensable  to  the  comfort  of  the 
house,  offering,  by  skilful  degrees,  to  attend  to  the  cooking 
while  the  Irish  "idiot,"  as  Miss  Mackenzie  always  called  her 
in  speaking  of  her,  was  busy  elsewhere.  It  will  not  be 
imagined  that  this  manoeuvring  escaped  the  sharp  eyes  of 
the  landlady,  but  nothing  was  said  until  one  evening,  when 
Hagar,  lingering  about  the  door,  hearing  praises,  sweet  to 
her  soul,  of  the  coffee,  the  buckwheat  cakes,  and  the 
"pone,"  was  suddenly  pounced  upon  by  Miss  Mackenzie,  of 


376  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

whom  she  stood  profoundly  and  amusingly  in  awe,  and  the 
following  dialogue  ensued : 

"  You  cooked  the  supper,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  A  didn't  mean  no  harm,  ma'am." 

"  But  did  you  cook  .the  supper  ?  " 

"  Katy  didn'  finish  de  upstairs  work,  ma'am,  and  she  say 
de  steps  is  so  heavy " 

"Now,  Hagar,  I  am  not  going  to  eat  you — just  tell  me 
plainly,  how  long  have  you  been  doing  the  cooking?  A 
week?" 

"A  couldn't  tell  exactly,  ma'am — but  a  don'  tink  it  any 
less  dan  a  week  1 " 

"Well,"  resignedly,  "if  you  lose,  it's  your  own  fault — 
here's  a  dollar  and  a  half  ;  Katy  has  just  given  me  a  week's 
notice,  and  I've  given  her  a  week's  wages,  and  a  talking-to 
that  I  think  she'll  remember,  and  told  her  to  clear  out  to 
night,  and  if  you  want  the  place,  at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a 
week,  and  Pareen  will  do  the  upstairs  work  for  a  dollar,  you 
can  clean  that  creature's  room,  and  move  into  it  to-morrow, 
and  then  clean  your  room  for  two  new  lodgers  that  want 
it!" 

Hagar  was  speechless  for  a  moment,  bewildered  by  the 
splendor  of  the  offer!  Then  she  said-,  slowly: 

"  And  Missy  mean  to  pay  Pareen  and  me,  'stead  of  a  payin* 
her  to  let  us  stay  ?  Does  Missy  mean  dat'  fo'  certain 
true?" 

"Yes,  I  mean  just  that!"  said  Miss  Mackenzie,  briskly, 
but  kindly  ;  "and  then,  instead  of  getting  your  dinner  from 
Mrs.  Campbell,  you'll  have  all  your  meals  here  in  my 
kitchen,  you  understand?  And  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
why  I  want  you  both,  and  may  even  want  Cudjoe  too,  before 
long,  for  you've  the  gift  and  grace  of  keeping  your  mouth 
shut.  I  think  I  see  my  way  tc  renting  the  house  next  to 
this,  and  filling  it,  too ;  I  shall  have  a  gate  cut  in  the  fence, 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  377 

and  it  won't  be  such  a  great  deal  more  trouble  to  keep  two 
than  it  is  to  keep  one.  So  now  you  go  ask  Mrs.  Campbell 
what  she  thinks,  and  let  me  know  at  once — there's  no  time 
to  lose — there  never  is,  for  that  matter ! " 

Hagar  took  the  landlady's  strong,  hard  hand,  and  pressed 
it  to  her  lips. 

"  God  bless  Missy  for  dis  !  "  she  said.  "  De  money  mos' 
gone,  and  if  Missy  didn'  do  dis,  den  we  hab  to  leabe  our 
own  folks,  and  go  wuk  'mong  strangers.  Missy,  heah  me 
promise  you  now — a  serbe  you  like  you  nebber  serbe  befo' ! 
and  Pareen  too ! " 

"  1  believe  she  will!"  said  Miss  Mackenzie  to  herself,  as 
Hagar  went  swiftly  up  to  Mrs.  Campbell's  room  with  her 
wonderful  news ;  and  that  belief  was  justified  ;  there  is  no 
service  like  that  which  is  prompted  by  love  and  gratitude, 
and  although  Miss  Mackenzie,  in  her  inflexible  honesty, 
tried  again  and  again  to  explain  to  Hagar  that  she  was 
under  no  obligation,  it  was,  as  the  good  landlady  was  forced 
to  admit,  "like  pouring  water  on  a  duck's  back."  Hagar 
would  smile  the  slow,  serious  smile  which  was  her  nearest 
approach  to  a  laugh,  and  say  gravely : 

"  Missy  say  dat  because  she  so  good — she  needn'  tell  me  a 
not  'bliged  to  her  for  keepin'  us  in  de  same  house  wid  our 
own  ladies  ! " 

The  second  house  was  taken  and  filled,  in  the  course  of 
the  winter,  and  then  Cudjoe,  who  had  obtained  Work  as 
porter  in  a  store,  and  was  uncomplainingly  suffering  much 
from  the  cold  and  the  heavy  lifting,  gladly  gave  up  his  situa 
tion,  to  serve  as  waiter,  bootblack,  and  man-of-all-work. 
Miss  Mackenzie,  in  holding  the  interview  which  decided  this, 
wound  up  with — 

"There's  one  condition — if  I  take  you,  you'll  be  called 
John.  I  always  have  to  think  two  or  three  times  to  recall 
your  outlandish  name,  though  I  suppose  it  was  all  right 


378  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

where  you  came  from,  and  where,  I  judge,  there's  a  good 
deal  more  spare  time  than  there  is  here." 

"  Missy  may  call  me  whatever  she  likes  best,"  said  Cudjoe, 
smiling  broadly,  "and  I'll  serve  her  just  as  faithful  by  one 
name  as  another." 

Leonard  managed  to  make  two  or  three  short  visits  in  the 
course  of  the  winter,  cheered,  each  time,  by  the  evident 
improvement  in  his  aunt's  and  Theo's  health,  and  by  the 
real  enjoyment  of  their  work  manifested  by  both  Doris  and 
Jane.  The  latter  sold  more  than  one  of  her  drawings  in  the 
course  of  the  winter,  at  the  shop  which  had  taken  the  first 
that  she  offered,  and  always  at  better  prices. 

"I  suppose  it  was  sinful  pride,"  she  said  to  Doris  one 
night,  "  that  made  me  resolve  to  sell  nothing  more  until  I 
could  do  some  work  that  satisfied  myself,  and  I  am  very  glad 
that  emergency  broke  down  my  resolution,  for  I  see  now 
that  I  shall  never  be  satisfied  with  anything  I  do,  and  it  is 
so  very  nice  to  have  the  money." 

Doris  had  the  more  difficult  lesson  of  patience  to  learn, 
for  her  work  could  bring  her  in  no  tangible  return  until  the 
expiration  of  the  year  for  which  she  was  engaged  in  Miss 
Henderson's  school,  and,  with  the  amount  of  daily  practis 
ing  which  was  necessary,  and  her  little  cares  for  her  mother 
and  Theo,  no  time  was  left,  even  had  she  been  in  a  position 
to  command  any  kind  of  work  for  which  she  would  have 
been  paid. 

But  the  "patient  continuance "  was  rewarded.  When  the 
time  expired,  Miss  Henderson  offered  her  a  very  fair  salary, 
with  the  privilege  of  instruction  continued,  and  the  fear, 
resolutely  suppressed  but  yet  dimly  present,  that  the  planta 
tion  might  not  be  rented  for  another  year,  was  proved 
groundless— it  had  done  well  under  the  new  management, 
and  a  small  advance  on  the  rent  paid  the  first  year  was 
offered,  together  with  a  proposal  to  lease  it  for  five  years  at 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  379 

the  same  rate.  A  similar  offer  was  made  to  Mr.  Barrett,  and 
in  both  cases  gladly  accepted. 

Mr.  Santou  did  not  return  to  claim  his  piano  until  about 
the  middle  of  the  winter,  and  then  he  tried  to  invent  sundry 
good  reasons  for  leaving  it  where  it  was ;  but  Doris,  though 
grateful,  was  resolute.  It  was  sent  home,  with  warm  thanks, 
and  in  excellent  order,  but  before  Doris  could  speak  to  Miss 
Henderson  about  an  arrangement  for  practising  at  the 
school,  a  very  good  hired  piano  took  possession  of  the  sitting- 
room,  and  Jane,  in  a  few  earnest  words,  reconciled  Doris  to 
the  fact  that  she — Jane — had  paid  six  months'  rent  in  ad 
vance  for  it. 

"  You  have  assured  me  that  I  am  as  dear  to  you  as  if  I 
were  really  your  sister/'  she  said ;  "  now  prove  it,  my  dear. 
I  am  not  pinching  myself  to  do  this — I  have  sold  more  than 
enough  of  my  drawings,  in  the  last  month,  to  pay  for  it, 
and  I  promise  you  that,  should  the  time  come  when  I  want 
and  you  have,  you  shall  find  me  a  capital  taker.  And  it's 
hard  to  work  without  tools,  you  know." 

Doris  submitted ;  she  knew  that  what  Jane  had  said  was 
true,  and  then — "  where  love  breathes,  pride  dieth." 

"  Doris  ! "  said  Jane,  suddenly,  after  a  long  silence,  one 
day  when  they  were  both  in  the  studio — it  was  a  legal  holi 
day,  and  the  two  had  been  looking  over  Jane's  portfolio — 
"  Doris !  do  you  remember  hearing  mamma  tell  how,  once, 
when  Clara  and  I  were  extremely  small,  I  was  offered  a 
banana  which  she  had  declined,  and  answered,  grandly, 
'  Nuuno,  me  fren',*  Jeanie  doesn't  eat  anybody's  leabins7?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Doris,  laughing ;  "  but  what  possessed  you  to 
think  of  that,  just  now  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Jane,  slowly,  and  with  a  contradictory 
smile  and  sigh,  "  because  I've  just  made  up  my  mind — subject, 
of  course,  to  the  parental  sanction — to  take  Hilda's '  leabins '." 

*  A  favorite  expression  of  the  negroes. 


380  DORIS  AND    THEODORA. 

"  Oh,  Jeanie ! "  and  Doris  sprang  up  and  caught  Jane  in 
her  arms;  "have  you,  really?  Has  Leonard  ?— have 
you " 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  laughing  and  blushing,  now.  " I  have 
really,  and  he  has,  and  I  have ;  but  you  needn't  choke  me, 
dear.  It's  dreadfully  foolish,  of  course,  for  it  will  be  at  least 
three  or  four  years  before — before  we  can  so  much  as  buy 
bread,  not  to  speak  of  such  a  luxury  as  cheese;  but  Leonard 
seemed  possessed  with  an  idea  that,  because  he  had  at  last 
discovered  my  priceless  worth,  somebody  else  might,  and  so 
— oh,  Doris,  I  wish  I  could  forget  about  Hilda — it's  the  one 
little  bitter  drop." 

"  Now,  Jeanie  ! "  said  Doris,  earnestly ;  "  you  mustn't  let 
it  be.  Leonard  certainly  thought  he  loved  her  ;  but  he  told 
me,  only  the  last  time  he  was  at  home,  that  he  was  sure  now 
he  was  mistaken  ;  that  if  Hilda  had  not  been  so  beautiful, 
he  would  never  have  imagined  it,  and  that  he  was  thankful, 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  that  it  all  happened  as  it  did  ; 
and  although  I  was  puzzled  for  awhile,  I  can  see,  now,  that 
what  he  feels  for  you  is  as  much  wider  and  deeper  and 
stronger,  as  the  ocean  is,  compared  with  a  millpond;  and  I 
know  you  see  it,  too,  or  you  wouldn't  have  accepted  him." 

"  It  certainly  isn't  my  beauty  ! "  and  Jane  made  a  whim 
sical  grimace  at  her  face  in  a  small  looking-glass;  "and  if  I 
am  foolish,  why,  I  am  one  of  a  goodly  company,  which  is 
consoling ! " 

"  But  you're  not  foolish,"  said  Doris,  warmly.  "  Leonard 
is  worthy  of  anybody's  love ;  and  oh,  Jeanie,  I  am  so  glad  it 
is  you,  and  not  some  strange,  outside  person,  with  whom  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to  make  acquaintance!  Have  you 
told  mamma  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  told  her  last  evening ;  don't  you  remember,  I  went 
back  to  her  room  after  we  came  up,  for  I  somehow  couldn't 
go  to  sleep  till  I'd  told  her,  when  my  own  mother  wasn't 


DORIS  AND    THEODORA.  381 

here,  and  she  was  just  as  lovely  as  she  always  is,  and  we 
cried  a  little,  softly,  for  fear  of  waking  Theo,  and  I  was  so 
glad  you  were  asleep  when  I  came  back  !  You  see,  Leonard 
and  I  are  both  so  busy,  that  we  can  very  well  afford  to  wait, 
and  I  think  it  will  be  quite  pleasant  to  be  engaged,  Doris — he 
writes  such  agreeable  letters ! " 

Some  one  says  that  stories  stop,  but  do  not  end.  It  is 
time  for  this  small  story  to  stop,  and  yet  there  is  a  little 
more  that  might  be  told.  Doris  is  still  very  young,  when  it 
leaves  her;  Mr.  San  ton  had  not,  so  far,  been  a  successful 
man,  from  the  world's  point  of  view.  He  had  raised  the 
popular  standard  and  tone,,  concerning  music;  he  had  given 
some  beautiful  music  to  the  world,  but  he  had  not  made 
much  money.  And  he  was  hesitating,  just  as  Leonard 
hesitated  concerning  Hilda,  doubting  whether  he,  a  still 
unsuccessful  man,  nearly  forty  years  old,  had  any  right  to 
ask  such  a  woman  as  Doris  to  share  his  poverty,  or  wait 
indefinitely  for  him  to  grow  rich.  But  his  eyes  were  more 
eloquent  than  he  imagined,  and — Doris  was  a  very  different 
woman  from  Hilda! 

Meantime,  days  well  filled  with  work,  done  with  heartfelt 
enthusiasm,  cannot  be  days  of  repining  or  discontent. 

And  the  best  and  brightest  blessings  come  to  those  who, 
in  all  things,  seek  to  bless. 


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